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sage-nebula · 2 years

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Opinions on Companions - Dragon Age 2

Just like with Origins, I figure I’ll go ahead and do a roundup of both my Hawke’s opinions on her companions, as well as my opinions on her companions, ranking them from Most Liked to Least Liked. I’ll include temporary companions, because opinions were had on them even if they didn’t stay around forever. Note that this is the ranking by the end of the campaign; Briar’s opinions especially would be different at varying points of the story, but for simplicity’s sake I’m writing up where things stand at the end.

Briar Hawke’s Companion Ranking:

Bethany Hawke

Isabela

Varric

Merrill

Carver Hawke

Aveline

Anders

Fenris

Sebastian

My Companion Ranking:

Varric

Bethany Hawke

Merrill

Aveline

Isabela

Fenris

Anders

Sebastian

Carver Hawke

Details on both lists beneath the cut.

Briar’s Companion Ranking Details:

Bethany is first because Bethany is Briar’s beloved sister and, for the longest time, was her best friend despite their slight age difference. (I imagine Briar to be about two years older than the twins.) Although Bethany held a grudge against Briar for sending her off to the Grey Wardens for the longest time, that never changed Briar’s feelings for her; she still loved her sister dearly no matter what and never stopped missing her.

Isabela is Briar’s girlfriend and true love. Although Isabela’s brief betrayal in Feynriel’s dreamscape put a damper on their relationship for some time, and then Isabela bounced for a while after the whole issue with the Qunari, banter was always very easy with her and also . . . she’s hot and Briar’s very gay lmao. So they’re happily together as of the end of the campaign. Rogue gfs 4 lyfe.

Varric, however, ends up as Briar’s platonic best friend, maybe even platonic soulmate tbh. Banter is always very easy between them, they love snarking at each other, love each other’s company, so on and so forth. Honestly very nearly tied with Isabela. Rogue bffs for lyfe.

Merrill is like a second little sister to Briar, especially after Bethany left for the Grey Wardens. It was hard watching Merrill go through so much with the mirror and the demon and her clan and all that, but Briar never stopped supporting nor stopped wanting to protect her, even if she knew Merrill was capable of protecting herself in most ways. Also, Merrill is actually probably older than Briar? But it doesn’t stop the big sister - little sister feelings.

Carver is Briar’s little brother and she did love him, but they were never very close due to Carver’s jealousy and insecurity issues, and then he got himself killed by an ogre, so. Briar still misses him, but ultimately he still comes in at number five.

Aveline is like the older sister that Briar never had. They butted heads a lot due to the fact that Briar is a rebellious rogue and Aveline is a strict guard captain, but ultimately Briar knows that Aveline has her back no matter what and vice versa. They care for each other a lot.

Anders was always a little too intense and dour for Briar, who preferred to be glib about most things most of the time (hence why she got on with people like Isabela and Varric). She was of course very sympathetic to Anders’ plight (her own father and sister were apostate mages), but their personalities didn’t click too well and sometimes he came on too strong. However, he was the one who provided a way to save Bethany’s life after Bethany contracted the darkspawn taint, so for that, Briar was always grateful and held him in high esteem . . . and then he betrayed her by using her to blow up the chantry and kill a bunch of people and kickstart a Kirkwall war. Briar spared his life because he saved Bethany; her telling him to leave and not come back was her way of repaying him for saving her sister. But after that they were even; she would not step in to save him again, given the betrayal.

Fenris, like Anders, is a bit too serious to really jive much with Briar, but the bigger issue is that he hates mages with a passion, whereas Briar’s loved ones are / were mages (her father’s dead, but Bethany and Merrill and even Anders are still alive), which puts them at odds. Plus, Briar’s just not one to condemn a whole group of people for the actions of some. She’s sympathetic to him, and understands and supports him wanting to fight Tevinter magisters, but can’t come to an agreement with him over all mages everywhere. Ultimately this led to her killing him in the final battle, but she wishes it could have been different.

And finally, Sebastian . . . from how wishy-washy he was over what he wanted to do with his life, to how he also hated mages, to how he threatened to kill everyone in Kirkwall if Briar didn’t kill Anders and thus was trying to blackmail Briar into it, she just does not care for him much at all by the end. He better hope they don’t meet in a fight someday. It won’t end well for him.

My Companion Ranking Details:

I wasn’t too sure about Varric at first, but oh my gosh I love him . . . I love that he’s a storyteller, I love that he was loyal to Hawke through and through (even when Cassandra was basically threatening his life), I love his sense of humor and just everything about him, really? I love tha this crossbow is named Bianca and is the first love of his life and just, man. If I didn’t need a healer on my team (the only reason I kept Anders in the party lol), I would have had him along on more missions. Varric’s my man. He’s so great.

I also adore Bethany. Some of it might have been bleedover from Briar’s love for her sister but I just loved that we got to have a sister for our player character (even if she wasn’t with the party for long) and I also just find her adorable? She’s adorable. I like her upbeat personality in the beginning despite her circumstances and I sympathize with her for hating that she had to join the Grey Wardens (somewhere, Lyra Mahariel was like, “bitch me too, the fuck”). My only complaint is we didn’t get to have her in the party for longer.

I also really love Merrill a lot. She’s an almost tragic character in that you can SEE she’s making mistakes, you KNOW this will end badly for her but you can’t really stop it outside of refusing to do her quests, but if you do that you miss out on her character. I love how she has a lot of innocence to her personality, yet at the same time she’s a blood mage and knows so much more than people give her credit for. RIP to her getting ostracized from her clan and having to kill her mother figure, but at least she lived to tell the tale.

While Aveline’s cries in battle are annoying (”I will have order!!” ok cop, shush), at the same time I found her story about finding love again with Donnic to be so endearing, like . . . she’s so awkward and hopeless it’s adorable. Also despite being all about The Law According to the Rules she also spends a lot of time whistling and looking in the other direction while Briar did rogue things which was HILARIOUS. She endeared herself to me a lot.

I like a lot about Isabela’s story; I like that it tied into the main plot arguably a lot more than a lot of the others (since she was the one who stole the book that was keeping the Qunari there, which tbh I figured out way in advance since she’d never go in the Qunari compound), I like her sass and of course she’s hot as hell. What loses her points is the fact that so much of her dialogue is about sex, to the point where it almost felt fanservicey at times, and not in a way I really appreciate. Like some of it was fine, but not even Zevran was that bad. They could have toned it down some. I still like her, but I wish that aspect of her was handled better.

Honestly I didn’t get to know Fenris too well because I missed giving him a gift in Act 2, and also missed doing his quest because I didn’t have him in the party any of the times I left the city, so I kind of feel like I can’t give him a fair judgment. I do have slight bias toward him since he is an elf, and also a very pretty elf, but at the same time like Briar I feel frustrated that he was just going to Hate Mages No Matter What, or at least that’s how it seemed, and that was by and large why I didn’t have him in the party; I figured it wouldn’t help to bring him along if he wasn’t going to be chill with us saving mages. It does suck that I had to end up killing him, though I imagine it might have been different if I had a higher friendship with him, just as I suspect that Aveline would have left the party if she wasn’t friends with Briar as well.

Anders makes me the most sad because I loved him in Awakening, he was funny and snarky and great. And I loved Justice in Awakening, too! And then they combined them and ruined both characters. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with Anders 100% that mages deserve to be free and not oppressed. But his constant doom and gloom, however much it made sense, did get a bit old after a while. He was constantly going after Merrill, kicking her while she was down after Marethari’s death, which I didn’t appreciate. And overall if I could have had another healing mage in the party throughout the majority of the game (WHY DID THEY HAVE TO TAKE MY BETHANY AWAY . . .) I would have booted him out long before the endgame (although to be perfectly honest, while I wouldn’t have had him in the party, I WOULD have had him stick around to help in the war just to increase the odds of mages surviving; the only reason I told him to gtfo is because Briar was so upset over the betrayal that’s what SHE would do). Idk if he’ll show up later in Inquisition or not since I spared him, but I won’t be upset if he doesn’t.

Sebastian was just like . . . a worse Alistair, I guess? He was inexplicably a rogue class which doesn’t make sense at all (would have made way more sense for him to be a warrior imo), he was a prince who was taken in by the chantry blah blah blah, but he had none of Alistair’s humor and was just so bland in terms of his personality. Like his main personality traits were being wishy-washy and then VENGEANCE!!!111!!1 when he felt it was warranted. And I did his quests too so it’s not like I didn’t get to know him like with Fenris. I don’t know, I just didn’t have much use for him either. He was annoying. I did his quests for the content, not because I particularly liked him.

And finally, Carver. Barely got to know this dude but tbh I don’t feel it was really a loss. He literally got mad at Briar for telling Aveline’s late husband not to hurt their sister, like wtf bro. I also read that he joins the templars if you have him live and don’t take him on the Deep Roads excursion, which is like ??? both of his sisters and his dad were mages and he joins the templars? Hello??? idk maybe he does it out of twisted loyalty somehow but I just don’t have much use for him and don’t care to get to know him at all. Was not sad that he died. Rest in pieces.

#dragon age 2 #briar hawke #like i get what they were trying to do with Anders and I understand the conflict in his story and his character but like #idk it just got kind of old after a while #and while I completely understand WHY he did what he did and see the logic in it #it wasn't enough to bump him up higher for me #bc of how bored I was of his angst by that point lol #(and also Briar was just so pissed at being used he had to go. sorry bud)

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shutupaboutandraste · 3 years

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“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

#dadwc #fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #da drunk writing circle #da

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

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i feel like "anger born of worry" is CLASSIC fenders, but i'm also 👀 at "impaled palm"

Ok, I tried my hand at doing both (haha) and I really hope you like it! If this wasn't what you were imagining, let me know and I'll try again!!

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Impaled Palm, Anger Born of Worry

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, evil/red Garrett Hawke, Isabela

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape, Torture, Mutilation, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Implied Domestic Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse

Additional Tags: Red Hawke and Anders have been in a 'relationship' for a while, Fenris finds out exactly how fucked up it is, please mind the tags, hurt/comfort, angst with a bittersweet ending

Fenris hadn’t actually wanted to go back. Hawke had told them all to leave that morning, making no effort to hide the hungry way he was staring at his apostate lover. Fenris had been glad of the excuse, and he and Isabela had enjoyed a companionable few hours trekking back up the Wounded Coast, discussing her various adventures. They were in sight of the high bright walls of Kirkwall when Fenris realised he didn’t have A Slave's Life. He and Isabela had taken a moment before the always-exhausting climb back up the steps into the city proper, and Fenris had wanted to take the opportunity to do a little reading. But the book wasn’t there. With an anxious lurch of his stomach, he’d realised he must have left it back at camp - where Hawke and Anders were...exploring each other. Grimacing, Fenris had told Isabela he’d needed to go back. She’d offered to accompany him, but Fenris had assured her that if he could make it across southern Thedas on his escape from Tevinter half-starved and unable to speak the language, he could handle a few raiders on the Wounded Coast. Besides, he knew how desperately she was longing to see her own mage again, and as much as her intimacy with a blood mage discomfited him, he also found that he was reluctant to separate them.

By the time Fenris got back to their camp, the sun was high in the sky and the sea was crashing in white peaked waves against the shore with a light breeze. He’d found his book in short order, buried beneath a pile of rust red blankets by one of the tents. The leather cover was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and the weight of it released the stress that had been building in his chest ever since he thought he’d lost it. Fenris had been planning to simply turn back to Kirkwall, not interested in announcing his presence to the happy couple, mouth already unpleasantly thick with the smell of sex.

But then Anders had screamed.

The sound was short, strangled and bitten off abruptly. Fenris thinks he might not even have heard it, if the wind had been passing in a different direction, or the waves had been a little louder. But he did. And Fenris had spent seven years protecting this man’s life, and having his own protected in turn. So he dropped into a crouch and crept towards the sound.

Fenris’ first thought is that it’s raiders - that feels like the most obvious explanation. It’s difficult to walk quietly on the sand dunes, but Fenris had had no shortage of practice silencing his steps in Tevinter, and now his toes sink soundlessly into the hot sand. When he lifts his head over the dune, long reeds scratching at his skin, sword propped lightly against the sand, it takes Fenris several moments to decipher the image in front of him.

Anders is half-dressed. This much, Fenris had expected. His pants are a twisted mess of fabric around his calves, and his shirt is unlaced and loose, riding up his belly - which for all Hawke’s insistent feeding is still terribly thin. His hair is a mess in the sand, tangled and crusted with muck.

But there are no raiders.

What Fenris hadn’t expected was Hawke, fully clothed, face dark with a hunger Fenris had only ever seen on the battlefield. As Fenris watches, blood roaring in his ears, Hawke leans down and bites Anders’ neck. Anders keens, writhing weakly beneath the shorter, stronger man - much more weakly than Fenris expects. He wants to believe that this is playfighting, some kind of roleplay, the likes of which Isabela extolls in her frequent trips to The Blooming Rose.

But this flickering candle of hope is doused, abruptly, when Fenris tears his eyes away from where Hawke is mauling Anders’ neck and sees Anders’ hand, skewered with one of Hawke’s knives. The dagger has been driven straight through his palm into the sand, and his greying skin is covered in black drying blood, as if it’s been there a long time. Occasionally, as Hawke moves over him, tugging at his clothes, his fingers twitch convulsively.

At one point, Hawke’s hand moves beneath Anders’ waistband, and Anders’ struggling increases, suddenly, and Hawke reaches over and grabs the hilt of the dagger in Anders’ palm and twists it. Anders’ screams, again, and again the sound is cut off as Hawke leans down to kiss him, groping him with one hand whilst he tortures him with the other.

Then Fenris is running over the top of the sand dune, sword held high.

Afterwards, Fenris isn’t sure whether he should have killed Hawke. In the moment, it doesn’t feel like he has any choice. He kicks Hawke away from Anders’ bruised, bleeding body, and swings his sword like a batter hitting a ball. Hawke’s head detaches from his shoulders and bounces, briefly, on the sand as his body topples into the wet stand. Fenris stands there, staring at the man who had been his friend and ally for seven years. His arms hold the sword suspended in the air at the end of the movement, as if he had been merely following the familiar steps of a routine. But the blade drips blood onto the sand, and eventually the heat and the wind bring Fenris back into himself.

He hears Anders, choking on sobs behind him, and he drops his blade - not thinking about the coming tide. Anders is sitting, having tried to gather up his ruined pants around his waist. He’s trying to pull the blade out of his palm. Fenris stares at him - tries not to see the stains on his clothes, the bruises on his neck and collarbone and chest, tries not to notice the ways in which he’s exposed. “Use your magic.”

Anders laughs, and it breaks into a sob on the way out of his mouth. “No shit, Fenris. I can’t.” He sobs again, and pulls the dagger out of his hand with a shout, collapsing back into the sand, where he lies on his back, dropping the knife into the dirt like its venomous. For a long moment, he lies on his back, staring up at the sky, hand limp and greying, blood running down the beach toward the sea and staining the sand red. “Magebane. He poisons - poisoned my food.”

Fenris stares, feeling the anger and grief and horror that had somehow, miraculously, failed to hit until now becoming a hurricane in his head. “How long.” Anders says nothing, and Fenris walks closer. “How long has he been doing this to you?”

Anders laughs again. His lips are swollen red and bruising, stained with the dark cherry stains of dried blood in places. His eyes are red rimmed and puffy, and there are long red marks fading up into bruises around his neck. “I don’t know. Since the beginning.”

Fenris thinks he isn’t angry at Anders. He thinks, probably, that he’s angry at himself. But he can’t seem to redirect the flood now it’s started, like a river that’s already falling through a broken dam. “And your demon?”

Anders’ brown eyes slide to look up at him, “Magebane cuts off my connection to him. Makes him...quiet, and weak. He figured that out early, too.”

Fenris grits his teeth, sweating fingers curling and uncurling in his gauntlets. The sea beats ceaselessly against the shore. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Anders squints at him. Fenris thinks he should be doing something: cleaning the cuts, or bandaging them, or doing something for the hand. But he’s caught like a fly in tree sap, unable to move whilst his mind tries to process the enormity of how the last few minutes recontextualise his life. “We’re not exactly friends, Fenris.”

“I would not have left you to this.” Fenris says the words with more heat than he means to, and Anders stares at him for a long, long moment, for once saying nothing.

Eventually, he swallows. “Well then.” Anders’ voice is weaker than usual when he speaks, and tremulous. He coughs, and starts again. “Ready for your first lesson in healing for normies?”

“Normies.” Fenris repeats, utterly wrongfooted by the sheer inanity of the man on his back in front of him.

Anders gives him a thin smile. “People without magic.” Fenris scowls, and Anders’ tight-lipped smile grows into a full-blown, crooked grin. “Lesson number one. If we don’t act soon I’m going to lose this hand. Might have lost it already. But we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

#bad things happen bingo #dragon age 2 #fenders #my fic #anders da2 #fenris #potatowitch

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tiadres · 3 years

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30 Days Dragon Age OC Challenge

Day 18: Companions

Anders: Anders is Cadriel’s partner and I will be talking more about him tomorrow in Day 19: Courtship, but overall Cadriel and Anders liked each other from the start. They share similar political views and are both mages, and love each other deeply.

Varric: BFF. Is there anything else to be said? There’s no Hawke without Tethras.

Isabela: Isabela is probably Cadriel’s closest friend after Varic. They became friends pretty quickly and always have a good time with each other. Cadriel was also quick to suspect that Isabela is a much deeper person than she lets on, and the pirate has been comfortable enough with Cadriel to reveal some details of her past.

Merrill: Cadriel chose to take a sort of middle road with Merrill. From Cadriel’s point of view Merrill was sometimes a bit reckless and too trusting with her demon and use of blood magic, but Cadriel wanted to give her the benefit of doubt and help Merrill in regaining the history of her people. While they may not always agree, they are friends and enjoy each other’s company. Cadriel is sad about how things went with Merrill’s clan, but at least they’re alive even if they’re angry at Merrill.

Fenris: Becoming friends with Fenris took some time as both him and Cadriel had to get to know each other well and meet each other half way. Once they did they developed a firm friendship that was not shaken by their differing opinions on magic.

Aveline: Sometimes Cadriel and Aveline clash (from Cadriel’s point of view, Aveline can be really difficult and hypociritical sometimes, and Aveline doesn’t always agree with Cadriel’s actions) but their experiences during the Blight hitched them together as friends and they do have a certain respect for each other. Most of the time they get along well.

Carver: Growing up with mage siblings, Carver often felt left out and shadowed by his big sister. Cadriel and Carver developed a rivalry of sorts, with lots of bickering and clashing as Carver searched for his place in the world. Still they love each other: they’re family. Becoming a Grey Warden turned out to be a good thing for Carver, as he found his own place and didn’t feel like he was in competition with his sister anymore. This allowed for their relationship to become calmer and friendlier as well.

Bethany: Cadriel loved her kid sister dearly and growing up felt much closer to Bethany than to Carver because they were both mages and spent lots of time studying under Malcolm. And Bethany was just so kind and sweet, it was easy to get along with her. Cadriel felt absolutely horrible seeing that Ogre kill her sister, and that memory haunted her nightmares for a long time. And when Leandra in her pain blamed Cadriel for Bethany’s death, Cadriel said nothing to defend herself. After all, she did feel guilty for not having been able to protect her sister.

Sebastian: Sebastian puzzled Cadriel a bit. She honestly didn’t understand why he wanted to hang out with her and the rest of the gang after they had helped him with his problem. I once saw this post where companions were summarized in funny way and Sebastian was something like “priest who accidentally joined biker gang”, and that’s pretty much how Cadriel felt about him. Yet she was too nice to tell him to go away, and over the course of years she did grow to consider him a sort of friend too even though he never really fit in the same way as the rest of the group - despite their differences - did. That fragile friendship was terminated when Sebastian demanded that Cadriel execute Anders. Cadriel understood why Sebastian was furious - she too was upset although for different reasons - but there was no way she’d kill her partner, especially when she agreed with Anders’ motivations for doing what he did. Sebastian left with vows for vengeance, and Cadriel did not miss him. She was however surprised and angry when Sebastian actually later fulfilled his promise and returned to Kirkwall with an army. So with Sebastian Cadriel went from work acquaintances to friends to bitter enemies.

Tallis: The adventure with Tallis was quite an excursion to usual Kirkwall business. Cadriel was angry that Tallis cheated her in order to get her help; in fact if Tallis had been honest from the start, Cadriel would have agreed to help her more readily than with the whole treasure heist story Tallis fed her. But then again considering Tallis’ background, it was understandable why she lied. In the end Cadriel chose to help Tallis - she was already deep in her mess anyway - and they separated on good terms.

Dane: Dane is Cadriel’s Mabari, and obviously the goodest of bois <33

Want to do the challenge as well? Here are the prompts

#da #da2 #dragon age #30dayDAchallenge #Cadriel Hawke #tia's oc stuff

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chaosride · 3 years

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A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.” ― Garrison Keillor

Fenris hadn’t expected much to come of Rosalyn’s offer to teach him to read. He should have, as the children had all been proven stubborn and relentless when it came to something they decided they needed to do. So determined, it turned out, that Rosalyn bothered Anders until he caved and appeared on his doorstep just after dinner one evening with his entire herd of children.

“Yes?” Fenris asked.

“Fenris, I’m really sorry but Ros-”

“You haven’t come to me for a lesson so I’m coming to you. I even brought a book,” Rosalyn told him seriously.

He nodded after a moment even as he glanced at Anders.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not a daycare, if it’s alright for Ros to stay for a bit for your lesson, I can come get her in a bit. If not it’s fine she was just, uh, very insistent.”

“It’s alright, you may come in.”

Fenris stepped back to allow space for Rosalyn to trot inside. Cahir cooed from Anders’ arms and reached for him, and the other children peered at him from behind the healer with expectant looks.

“Thank you Fenris, I’ll come back to get her in an hour or two, c’mon guys,” Anders told him before he began the arduous task of herding the children away.

Fenris didn’t what possessed him to but he called out, “Mage, you can all come in. I have plenty of rooms, Ros and I can do our lesson in my room.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get in here already,” Fenris groused.

The children made the decision for Anders and crowded into the vestibule with excited shouts and general chatter. Once Anders stepped through Fenris shut the door behind him.

“Thanks, Fenris,” the mage told him.

Fenris didn’t answer him, instead taking Cahir from Anders when the boy reached for him. Anders let the toddler go with no complaints, but the enamored look on the healer’s handsome face made something in Fenris’ chest clench. Fenris knew the look was likely directed at the boy in his arms but it was nice to pretend. He bounced Cahir in his arms to hear him laugh and led them into the open main hall of the mansion.

“Whoa, this place is huge!” Tanner said, looking around with huge eyes.

“Do you live here with other people?” Bree asked him,

“No, it’s just me.”

“Oh, don’t you get lonely?”

“... Sometimes,” Fenris told her. “Ros, my room is this way, we can do our lesson out here. Mage, feel free to move anything or use anything that is out here, let me know if they need anything.”

“Do you want me to take Cahir?”

“I can handle him, if he gets fussy I’ll bring him to you.”

“Oh- alright, thanks Fenris.”

Rosalyn was a patient teacher, and it made the lesson go quickly. Fenris had worried it would be embarrassing or beyond him even with someone willing to teach him. It was easier since he already had a firm grasp on the language, and Fenris was just glad to recognise at least a few common words in written form.

“Why do you call the healer mage?” she asked him quietly, towards the end of their lesson.

Fenris looked up from the paper he was using to practice writing his name on. She was intently staring at the page she had been spelling out names for him to practice along with his own on. Her pale brows were drawn together and she had stopped writing midword.

“He is one.”

“It’s dangerous though. If the wrong person heard you they would come for him. Do you… not like ta because he’s a mage?”

“Has he said that?”

“No, not… not out loud. It just makes him sad, I can tell."

"I have reason to distrust mages, they have hurt me very much in the past.”

“Was it the healer?”

“No, but it is not that simple. Mages can be dangerous, they have a lot of power. Anders… is not just Anders.”

“Oh, you mean Justice? I know some people are scared of him because he’s a spirit but he’s nice. He scares away mean people in the clinic who bother ta, but he’s never hurt any of them. He always seems… upset at the possibility of having to,” she told him. “You think mages are dangerous but you haven’t turned ta in?”

“It would upset our friends very much. I am from Tevinter, where blood magic is commonplace. I was suspicious at first, is all. But he has proven himself, we are… friends I suppose.”

Ros nodded slowly, considering the information.

“Why do you ask? There is no danger of me turning him in, if that was your worry.”

“I’m a mage too,” Rosalyn whispered. “I was afraid you would hate me and not want me around anymore if you knew.”

Fenris smiled at her, and found he was unable to be afraid of her. She was just a girl still, unsure and hesitant, and being a mage didn’t make her someone different than who she had been before.

“Well then you have nothing to fear. I could not hate you. Just promise me you won’t practice blood magic or make a deal with a demon.”

Rosalyn giggled. “Yes, da, I promise.”

“Then we’re fine,” he promised her.

Fenris found he meant it. Ros was a mage but she was just a child who had no committed no wrongs against him. He couldn’t find it in his heart to see her any differently than he had before; as one of his kids. They may have been Anders’ to everyone else but Fenris had come to accept they were his too, at least partially.

Now if he could only stop yearning for Anders to be his as well. He wanted to get used to having people fill his home, for there to be noise and joy and light someplace Danarius had wrought only demons and shadows and ashes. It was not a wish he had put too much credence in until he saw it so tantalizingly close today.

Maybe he was deserving of a family after all. It was getting easier and easier to believe that.

Even so he didn’t give voice to the thought of offering for them to stay the night as he saw the healer and his ducklings out that night. Fenris could offer a thousand reasons why it was better than returning to Darktown; he had plenty of rooms and beds, the children would have more room to run, he had a better desk for Anders to sit and write at, he had a table they would all fit around to sit at meals. He couldn’t find the breath to do so though, sure that Anders would rather be anywhere else. The mage was only around because of the kids. That was the truth of Fenris’ situation.

---

Anders wished he was better at speaking to Fenris. He had considered asking if he had eaten dinner or wanted company for the evening but hadn’t wanted to overstep his bounds. While Fenris had certainly softened towards Anders, the healer knew it had everything to do with the children and nothing to do with him as a person. Fenris hated him on principle which as much as Anders hated he could understand. Even if a templar fought alongside Hawke and had promised to not harm him, Anders wouldn’t be able to trust them. Anders hadn’t considered it a problem either, but seeing Fenris with the children and being around him without arguing had affected the mage in ways he couldn’t have predicted.

He had always noticed how attractive the warrior was but had found any desire tempered by his abhorrence of anything magic and his penchant for disregarding Anders’ safety to call him things such mage and abomination so openly. In retrospect, the healer saw that Fenris likely didn’t realize how much danger he had put Anders in with such words. He had not seen how insipid the chantry doctrine against magic ran, how many were willing to go running to the templars. Or simply corner mages with pitchforks and torches and take care of problems themselves. Where Fenris had come from, he would have been punished severely for speaking to a mage that way- the thought was mind boggling to Anders.

In the beginning of them knowing each other, Anders had been bitter that Fenris didn’t see how similar they were. But now he also knew that he had undermined a lot of what Fenris suffered in Tevinter. He had said and done a lot of things that he knew Fenris could never see past. He couldn’t even blame the elf really either, just be grateful he was kind to the kids and hadn’t tried to have them removed from his care.

Not that it would matter if he did or not. Anders knew that Sebastian was already starting to whisper about it in their friend group, once he had found out that Anders was taking care of the children. It was one of the things Isabela had given him a heads up about during their overnight trip to Sundermount.

The other thing she had warned him about had to do with Delilah, and he was still debating on how to handle that situation. But he knew he had to, tonight when she got home from her shift. Because she would be home, and Isabela had overheard saying she didn’t feel safe staying in her bunk at the Rose anymore. Of course, Anders didn’t mind her feeling at home in the clinic but if she didn’t feel safe at the Rose then they needed to find her another job or remove the problem.

Isabela had agreed with him and lowly informed him that if he got the names of whoever was bothering Delilah they wouldn’t be a problem any more. The healer didn’t want to really consider what being considered an enemy by Isabela felt like but he knew it surely wasn’t pleasant.

So when Delilah got home that evening, Anders made tea like he always did. Delilah chatted some about her day, and he told her some of what the kids had gotten into that day and how the clinic had been. He almost didn’t bring it up, unwilling to disrupt their peaceful nightly tradition but he couldn’t just leave it be.

“Delilah, I know you’ve been hiding some injuries after work, and that there’s another reason for you not staying there anymore,” he began carefully. “I enjoy having you here at night, I just… if someone is bothering you at work, someone should know. If you know their names, I can make sure they won’t bother you again.”

Raelnor, when challenged about things he was hiding, had been angry at Anders for trying to involve himself. Anders had worried about Delilah distancing herself from him or telling him to leave it alone. Instead she offered him a sad smile and shook her head.

“Thank you, ta. It’s very sweet of you but it’s not just a pushy client. Some of the more seasoned girls aren’t happy about how many requests I get and they are just being catty. It’ll blow over,” she said. “Much nicer to come home every night anyway.”

“Have you looked for work somewhere else?”

“I know what you must think, me working in a brothel, but it is an honest living and it pays well enough.”

“It is an honest living, but I’ve worked in brothels. It’s not an easy job, and I just want… I want you to know that just because it’s work you know doesn’t mean it’s all you can do. If you aren’t happy there, don’t just weather it and hope it gets better.”

“You’ve worked in brothels?”

“One or two, years ago. I was hired on as a healer but I had enough people ask about me that they decided I should take on a few clients. I was an apostate and they usually housed me. Wasn’t in a position to complain, and I hadn’t learned yet that saying no was something I was allowed to do. In that respect at least.”

Delilah nodded, and stared into the fire with her dark brow furrowed.

“Even if I did want to work somewhere else, no one’s hiring Fereldans. And brothel work is all I’ve done…”

“Let me ask around, but you read and write well, you’re organized and calm under pressure. You have more talents than you realize.”

“A change of pace might be nice. Plus it would mean that I don’t have to tell Sam no every week when he asks me out again . He’s nice enough but really cannot take a hint. But the other girls all say he’ll move on soon, apparently it’s a pattern with him,” she said before carrying on the conversation without a hiccup, quelling Anders’ fears with ease.

Delilah was independent and had a good head on her shoulders but Anders still considered her his daughter, as much as Raelnor or the younger kids. She was always trying to look after him in turn too, and he vowed he would do anything he could to make her life easier.

Even if it meant begging Aveline for help finding her a safe job.

---

It was beyond late when Fenris woke to pounding on the door. He had stumbled to the door, already hauling his greatsword into place at his back with only one gauntlet on. The other still hung haphazardly from his pouch where he had tied it the day before. His breastplate wasn’t sitting right, the buckles tightened too hastily but he would fix it when he had time he decided when the knocking reached a fever pitch.

He ripped the door open, expecting to stumble directly into a gang fight Hawke had brought literally to his doorstep. Instead he found Rosalyn there, in her nightgown and shivering in the early morning air.

She didn’t give him time to question and snagged his wrist, pulling him out of the vestibule of the mansion with more force than he thought she had in her lithe body. Rosalyn was frantic, nearly falling in her scramble to get him moving.

“The healer needs help, please da, I know you don’t like mages much but the templars are there now and they already hurt him bad,” she begged. “It’s my fault, please , help him.”

She didn’t need to say anything else. Where before Fenris hadn’t been fully awake and baffled by her being there, the icy dread that curled around his spine woke him up. They practically ran through Hightown and Lowtown towards Darktown. Fenris adjusted his armor as they moved and tugged his gauntlet into place. His mind spun with all the ways the worst could have already happened, all the ways this night could end in heartbreak.

Every single situation grew a thousand times darker in his mind as they burst through Darktown and were met with the sound of a rattling cry. It was the loudest Fenris had ever heard a child cry, and could only be Cat who was squalling. He would recognize it anywhere.

The noise spurred him on so much that he nearly tripped over Tanner standing guard over Bree and Cahir, hunched between the wall and the ramshackle wooden stairs Fenris had come down.

“They’re still in there,” Tanner rushed out as soon as he recognized Fenris. “They took Cat because he tried to protect her, da you have to do something.”

Fenris nodded.

“Ros, stay here,” he ordered before the sound of running footsteps drew nearer to the stairs, coming towards the clinic.

Fenris drew his sword, sure they were about to be set upon by templar reinforcements but it was their own. Delilah, Raelnor, Varric, and Isabela tumbled down the stairs in a hectic tangle.

“Rae, Delilah, look after the kids, we’ll get Anders,” Fenris promised.

Together the warrior and two rogues approached the wreckage that had been made of the clinic. The lock Donnic had gotten had indeed been strong, so much that the templars had kicked the door, new frame and all, clean out of the rotting wood of the surrounding wall.

As they got closer, Fenris was able to distinguish some of the commotion coming from within that had been overpowered by the sheer volume of Cat’s bawling. The girl was loud when excited, shrieking and chattering, but when she was scared it was on another level. Fenris marveled a little at her lung capacity as her wailing seemed to make the walls around them shake with the force of it. What it was drowning out was worse and made all the hair on Fenris’ body stand on end and his brands to flare to life without his permission.

He couldn’t make out what Anders was actually saying because it was muffled, only that his voice was hoarse and pleading. The answering laughter was clear as a bell and nothing short of spiteful.

“We had a little tip off healer, some of us remember you from Kinloch. I was thinking that we would leave you locked in that thing just while we got you to the Circle but I really enjoy you begging.”

There was a chorus of laughter and hurled taunts. The sound Anders made was one of a wounded, cornered animal. Fenris couldn’t breathe around his heart in his throat but Varric had motioned for them to not rush in so they stilled out of sight.

“We need to get Cat out before anything,” he whispered. “The kid’s so damn loud I can’t even tell where she is in there.”

“I’ll get her,” Isabela told him. “But you have to cover me to get her out.”

Fenris only half listened to them as the templar from before began talking again. He seemed to be their ringleader, which meant all the others were likely crowding him for the show. Fenris only prayed he wasn’t the one holding Cat.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t like the dark much. Or tight spaces. Looks like I was right. It might have been overkill to use a smite and magebane but I heard from a little birdy that you’re slightly allergic to magebane. I wasn't sure if that made it more or less effective, better safe than sorry.” Another wave of laughter. “I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable. I think we’ll stay here a while. Just in case we can root out any other apostates who may come looking for you. A few hours in there isn’t much compared to that year in solitary, and certainly nothing like what I’m going to do to you once we get you back to the Circle. I like your fire so much we may even see about waiting to put you on the Tranquil list. No one will even know where you are or who you are, you’d be a nice pet if you learned to behave.”

The sob Anders gave was so soft that Fenris barely heard it, but the way his voice caught and rasped when the mage spoke broke his heart.

“Please, do whatever you want, just let her go. She’s just a baby. Please.”

“Isabela,” Fenris murmured, already straightening. “Get Cat and get out. Varric, cover her and then fall back and look after the children. I will handle the rest.”

“Broody, there’s like twenty of them-” Varric was cut off by Isabela’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m with you, Fen. Let’s kill these bitches,” she whispered. “Nothing would have stopped him anyway,” he heard her mutter to the dwarf but it was drowned out by the white hot rage that roared like a spreading fire in his head.

Fenris rushed the group, slicing effortlessly through the chatty templar. His blood fell in a crimson shower on his cohorts and there was a stunned moment of indecision on their part. Isabela used it to her advantage and plucked Cat from the templar who had been holding her by her chubby little arm.

By the time they had turned to pursue the pirate, arrows had begun raining down on them and Fenris cut down the rest with sweeping swings from his sword. It was over in what felt like moments; one second there had been a battalion of templars crowded into the clinic, and the next there were only bodies and blood.

Fenris turned to set about freeing the mage now that the threat had been eliminated and Cat was seen to safety. He choked on his own breath when he processed where they had been keeping Anders subdued. Fenris’ vision had tunneled to the templars so much that he hadn’t registered it. Now that he did, he wished he had not ended their lives so quickly. It was too merciful for them.

It was a sturdy chest, larger than some, and wrapped in thick chains. The four lines of glistening bood clinging to the wood said that even injured Anders had fought like a cat being put in a bag to be drowned against being put into it. Without the clamor of bodies or his own blood pounding in his ears Fenris could hear how hard Anders was panting and how he whimpered with each exhale.

Fenris’ hands turned desperate on the lock until he finally phased his hand into and ripped it apart from within. He felt the sharp shards of metal tear through his palm but all he cared about was getting Anders out and calmed down. The chain fell away at his jerking. When Fenris lifted the lid, Anders didn't uncurl, his long arms braced around his head still.

“Please, no more, I won’t run again, please,” the mage whispered.

“Anders,” Fenris said, his voice choked with horror, “I’m here, it’s just me. You’re safe with me.”

Golden eyes blinked up at him and fluttered at the light, glazed over and sluggish. The fingers of one hand were smashed almost beyond recognition and his face was a bloody mess. But he was breathing and there was no raised sun of tranquility on the freckled skin of his forehead. He was the most beautiful thing Fenris had ever seen.

“Fenris,” the healer sighed, the word drenched in relief.

Fenris helped him out, catching Anders when his knee gave out and making comforting noises when the mage tried to apologize. All the cots had been destroyed so Fenris closed the chest and eased Anders to lean against it.

“Where are you hurt?”

Anders shook his head weakly. “Not bad, the kids?”

This man , Fenris thought fondly.

“They’re okay. Isabela got Cat, they’re all okay. Even if it’s not bad, let me bandage it.”

“Just bruises. They definitely broke my… hand. Maybe just a few fingers but feels like my whole hand. Maybe my wrist,” Anders said. His speech was still slow and his eyes wouldn’t focus. “Mainly it's the magebane.”

“Ta?” a trembling voice called from just outside the clinic.

“I’m alright, love,” Anders answered. His voice was still raspy and weak, like he had been screaming for hours.

“Come get your things,” Fenris told them when the entire lot of them came in. He felt Anders go rigid against his side where he had slouched. For a tense moment no one moved until Fenris cleared his throat. “ Now, ” he said firmly.

The children all scrambled to comply. All except Rosalyn, who hesitated, looking between Anders and Fenris nervously. Finally she crept over and hugged Anders carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in danger. I understand if we can’t stay with you anymore.”

Anders blinked at her and opened his mouth to reply. Fenris could practically see the wheels struggling to turn in his mind, moving like machinery coated in honey.

“You are all coming to the mansion. Someone needs to pack Anders’ things for me, can you do that Ros?”

She nodded and scurried away, evidently at ease.

“You’re not taking the kids away from me,” Anders said mainly to himself.

Still Fenris answered him, “No, I am not.”

“Why? Why are you helping me, and why are you okay with them being with me. You hate mages, you hate me-”

“I don’t.”

Anders looked up at him, a perplexed furrow between his brows. Fenris didn’t know what possessed him to but he ducked down and pressed a chaste kiss to Anders’ mouth. Anders looked surprised and he leaned after Fenris when the elf pulled away.

“I really don’t,” he admitted softly.

“Will you do that again later? I will definitely think this was all a fever dream.”

“I will, as many times as you would like,” Fenris assured, amazed that it was truthful. He would kiss Anders as many times as the mage wanted once they were away from here. ”I heard them say they gave you magebane but that you have a bad reaction to it. Is there anything I can do?”

Anders shook his head. “It makes other mages a little woozy at worst but it… makes me really out of it and sick to my stomach. All I can do now is let it run its course.”

Fenris brushed his hair back from his tired face.

“Then let’s get you home so you may rest.”

(please leave kudos and comments here! ♥)

#fenders da2 #fenders da #fenris da2 #fenris x anders #anders da2 #arty writes #kidfic x7

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crqstalite · 4 years

Text

Character Name: Evolet Hawke

Full Name: Evolet Charis Hawke

Nick Names: Evie, Chuckles (Varric)

Gender: Female

Age: 22 (9:30 Dragon), 36 (9:44 Dragon)

Birthday/year: Mid Bloomingtide in 9:08 Dragon

Sexuality: Demisexual

Marital Status: Single (DA2), ...spoken for (Post-game)

Spouse: Currently romantically involved with Fenris

Hair: Very kinky and coiled, though typically combed through and left in a bun for the majority of her time in Kirkwall. Black.

Eyes: Dark brown

Origin: Born in a small village just outside of Amaranthine.

Language: Evolet is fluent in Common, and knows some broken Elvish

Blood Type: AB

Height: Rhosyn is 5″10

Weight/Body Structure/Physical Faults: Evolet, having been a mage, didn’t have an explicit need to be muscular or very heavy set. However, with how many times she happily fist fought someone in an alley to get them to leave her siblings alone, she has her fair share of scars to show for it. She weighs just about 150 pounds, and while she may not be the most dexterous of the party, she is beyond capable of physically smacking the absolute shit out of someone that gets too close.

Race/Species: Human

Parents/Elders/Guardians: The late Malcom and Leandra Hawke

Siblings: Carver Hawke and the late Bethany Hawke

Beliefs/Religion: Evolet is, at her core, Andrastian, but doesn’t defend the Chantry.

Career/Past Careers: Evolet basically had the job of protecting her siblings -- and herself really. She also did odd jobs around Lothering, anything from sewing to helping herd animals back to their owners. Meager coin, but it did help pay for some education of the three Hawke children once Malcom was gone.

Hobbies: Evolet loves to run -- not be on the run -- but running in general. Finding new places, exploring what the world has to offer. Discovering the hidden niches and dark corners, finding what Thedas has in store for her.

Likes: Evolet likes the finery in life, she won’t be frank about it. Moving into the estate was a dream come true, complete with a beautiful dresses and a bed that no longer feels like a brick beneath her. The lacy garments and styled hair, the glittering jewelry and furniture that her mabari is decidedly not allowed on. It makes her some sort of happy.

Loves: Evolet loves finding that she’s finally done something good in the world, loves finding that she’s helping people. That people need her, and that she can celebrate with them when things go right, when they’re finally where they’ve always wanted to be. She’s happy to give every part of herself for their success. And, of course, she loves Fenris with her whole heart. She wants to be by his side at every hour of the day if he would allow it.

Dislikes: Evolet is not a fan of being told what to do. She’s an independent woman, she doesn’t need the hand of some man to help her. She doesn’t need help, and definitely doesn’t want it, not when there are other people who would benefit from her more.

Loathes: Evolet hates the Circles. The Chantry had the right idea when they put them up, but they’ve been so far degraded that Evolet would never want to set foot in one, even if she wants to keep the people around her safe. She understands Fenris’ concern, but she doesn’t understand why she should be shackled for the crimes of some other mage years before she was born. Why should she be told what to do with her power?

Fears: Evolet fears the day that no one will need her. She fears the day everyone will pack up and leave her because they no longer want Hawke around. Bethany is dead, Carver is long gone. She was supposed to protect her siblings, and now she hasn’t seen her brother in nearly seven years. There is only so much she can do, and there’s only so much people will take from her. When will they decide they don’t need her, or when will they decide that she can be taken advantage of?

Strengths: Evolet likes to work with what she has. She’s never really in need of a spellbook or a map, she goes and does what’s needed and makes the best of scraps. Because of this, she excels in the middle of a fight, ready to throw a fireball wherever needed and her party works around this. She’s not afraid of flaunting who she is as a mage, and works to to those strengths.

Weakness: Evolet, having never been in a Circle doesn’t know her limits. She doesn’t know how much lyrium will kill her, only that it makes her undeniably woozy and dizzy at the worst of times. She knows the basics about not accepting demons, but she doesn’t know much about how much magic she can exert without overdoing it and destroying her from the inside out. Because she never plans either, her party is forced to scramble and work with what she gives them. Singed hair is one of the few things they have to endure.

Supernatural Powers & Abilities: She is a force + spirit mage.

Temperament: Evolet is very easy going, and it’s not hard to get her to laugh -- or to make others laugh. On first glance, she’s a happy woman wanting for nothing, absolutely in love with the elf that captured her heart long ago. However, she’s also good at hiding the more undesirable parts of herself, like the desperation and depression that eats away at her on the inside. It’s just a question of when her facade crumbles, and just how badly the ensuing aftershocks hurt her.

Party Relationships:

aveline vallen ➝ best friend (9:30 dragon-9:41 dragon) varric tethras ➝ best friend (9:30 dragon-9:41 dragon) anders ➝ acquaintance (9:30 Dragon-9:37 Dragon) [died 9:37 Dragon] isabela ➝ friend (9:30 dragon-9:41 dragon) merrill ➝ friend (9:30 dragon-9:41 dragon) fenris ➝ friend (9:30 dragon-9:37 dragon) lover (9:37 Dragon-) malcom hawke ➝ father (died 9:27 dragon) leandra amell ➝ mother (died 9:34 dragon) bethany hawke ➝ sister (died 9:30 dragon) carver hawke ➝ brother gamlen amell ➝ uncle reyna hawke ➝ cousin (conditional – au) aeris moreau ➝ sister in law (conditional – au)

#another one!#this time for a hawke lol #just the inkies to go after this :D

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midnightprelude · 5 years

Text

Autumn Revels

My @fic-or-treat submission for @hollyand-writes! It’s not the spookiest by any means, but I hope you enjoy the fall flavor. I know I enjoyed writing these wonderful guys and starting to give them the happy ending they deserve. :)

Fandom: Dragon Age Rating: Mature Paring: m!Hawke/Anders

You can read it here or on AO3!

No matter where they found themselves, as soon as the wind and the leaves began to grow crisp, Anders and Garrett would find themselves packing up and heading off to Nevarra. It had become a tradition of sorts, starting completely spontaneously as many such things do, and then garnering its own meaning over the years.

The first time they found themselves in the country together, Anders had been traveling alone since Kirkwall, often sleeping out-of-doors or in forgotten alleyways, never staying in one place for long. His journeys took him north, through the Marches, Antiva, Rivain, Tevinter, and Anderfels. He saw more of the world than he ever could have imagined back when he was rotting in Kinloch. Freedom had been a strange thing for Anders, nothing like what he had expected, and he still wasn’t sure he had really ever tasted it in truth.

He and Hawke had necessarily parted ways after the revolt, once the mages of the Kirkwall Circle were finally freed and Meredith put to the sword. Anders had betrayed him. Garrett had given him everything: a home, a purpose, a life . Love.

Anders had tossed it away. It was necessary, but the pain of it still stung. He imagined it always would. And in the end, Hawke didn’t even have the heart to destroy him, to end his pain. Anders supposed it was too much to ask--Garrett had promised to always take care of him, to keep him safe from those who would put him back in chains. Who would put them both in chains, if they could. Garrett had never been trapped in a Circle himself, but he had seen what the confinement had done to people. What it had done to Anders. Garrett had promised it would never happen again; he had promised to keep Anders safe from the Templars and the Seekers and the Wardens and anyone else who might come for him. And Anders had tossed it away.

He had heard rumors of the Herald and had even seen the Breach, far off in the distance. It was only a subtle green glow when he was in the Marches. Rumors of darkspawn and demons, but then again there were always rumors of darkspawn and demons. He hadn’t thought much of it.

He had been traveling for five years, his feathered coat growing more and more tattered as the miles he accumulated crossed the hundreds. Sometimes he was able to get a pony to carry his tired feet. More often, he was on foot. Sometimes he would heal for coin. Sometimes for a hot meal. Sometimes for nothing at all. He was not so callous to turn away a patient who could not pay for their treatment. He never had been. Those nights he went hungry.

Eventually his feet carried him to Nevarra City, the dense population allowing him to bleed into the background, despite his light hair, pale complexion, and southern accent. There were plenty from around the world who flocked to the area, trading, wandering, traveling. He could find shelter here, perhaps build a life. He was far enough from anyone who would recognize him. Perhaps he could stay for longer than a fortnight. It could be Kirkwall again, better even. Nevarra also smelled of death, but it was the acrid smell of embalming fluid and incense, not of blood clotting and drying in the streets.

The first day of autumn was impossible to miss. The denizens of Nevarra City strung lanterns and streamers from every surface, preparing for a month of revels. There would be food, drink, costumes, and celebrations of the dead. Even Anders was starting to feel festive. He would not partake, of course, but it was hard to not be swept up in the infectious nature of an entire populace coming together over shared traditions, even if they were not his own. He remembered evenings in the Hanged Man, Isabela singing loudly or dancing on a table, Fenris actually smiling when he was beating Varric at cards, Merrill drinking far too much and being carried through Lowtown by one of the men or Isabela, when she wasn’t too far gone herself. He remembered stolen kisses, holding Garrett’s hand under the table, drunken confessions of love. In Nevarra, he would sometimes use his last coins to buy a drink and sit in a tavern, in the corner, not speaking to anyone, and just remember the way Garrett looked in the candlelight, flushed with drink. The thought alone was enough to make his stomach flutter and bring tears to his eyes. Justice was allowing him alcohol now, in small amounts, never more than one drink.

Maker, what I wouldn’t do to see him again, just once more.

He was cleaning up his makeshift clinic, reshelving unused gauze and taking stock of his remaining herbs, when he heard a knock at the door. He had established his practice several months ago under a particularly seedy bridge, a cavern leading off of the walkway from the canals that criss-crossed their way through the city. It reminded him a bit of Darktown, but at least he was no longer in the sewers.

He turned to the door, sighing.

One more patient , he thought, and then I can try to rest.

Not that resting was particularly pleasant for him, either. More often than not, Anders would dream of stumbling through the Deep Roads or his cell in Kinloch. He would wake up with his skin crawling, the dreams of demons never far from his mind. On the kinder nights, he remembered when Hawke asked him to move in, holding Hawke and being held in return, the feel of Ser Pounce-a-lot’s fur, that wry smile Fenris had started giving him towards the end, the way Varric would shake his head when he called him ‘Blondie’.

He still didn’t entirely understand why Garrett had spared him, sending him away instead of facing punishment for his crimes. Justice had been angry about it, even despite his feelings of victory. In truth, Anders had been a little angry as well. Garrett had chosen the easier route for himself, but not for Anders. Anders was forced to endure, living with the knowledge that he had destroyed his friends’ lives in a single instant. He didn’t regret his actions at the Chantry; it had been necessary. He regretted hurting his companions. He regretted hurting innocents. Hurting Kirkwall itself.

He stepped gingerly over the improvised cots and across the uneven cobblestones to reach the door he had thrown together himself from a pile of cast-off driftwood. He reached for the handle, sighing. He had hoped he could finally go to bed for the evening, catching a few hours of sleep before dawn came. It did not seem to be the case.

He opened the door slowly. The face staring back at him, glowing in the lantern light, was enough to make him drop his staff, the wood clattering against the stone floor.

Garrett Hawke stood before him, more slender, more lined, and travel-worn. He had kept his beard, but his hair was close-cropped and he looked like he had gathered a few more scars over the past several years. Anders could hardly breathe.

Hawke smiled. “It’s been a while, Anders. I’ve missed you.”

Anders was at a loss for words. He used to babble, but all of the time alone with his thoughts had quieted his mind. And he wasn’t expecting this of all things. Not him. Not here. Not after all of this time.

Garrett looked at him curiously. “May I come in? I’m exhausted and could use a drink.”

Anders nodded, stunned, his breath and speech stolen from him by the circumstances. He could not stop staring. He was almost sure that this was just another dream that would suddenly turn into a nightmare. Garrett would be replaced by Meredith or an abomination or would have a sunburst on his forehead, his mind and connection to the Fade severed completely.

But he grabbed whatever swill he had on hand and poured a glass for his old friend. Garrett was still there. When he took a mug for himself, choking down the ale, Garrett was still there, smiling slightly. And when he finally found his words, Garrett was still there, grinning stupidly.

“Why…? How…?” The questions were all Anders could choke out. Anything else was impossible. The whole situation was, in fact. He couldn’t really be here, not after all of this time. Not after all of the miles he had crossed getting away, to keep Hawke safe from the cloud of suspicion that being acquainted with Anders would bring. Of being more than acquainted.

Garrett laughed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you of my coming. I wasn’t sure if you would still be here when I arrived. I’ve tried to follow you before, but I was always too late. And then there was the bit with the Inquisition…” He sighed. “Anders, we fought a monster . I didn’t think it could get worse than Kirkwall, but it decidedly was. World-ending calamities. And of course, Varric dragged me into it.”

Anders frowned. That angered him. Varric should have known better. “You’ve done enough, Hawke. He should have let you rest.”

Garrett shrugged, eyes laughing. “You know I would have found my way there eventually. I can’t stay away from trouble. It’s my special talent.”

“I know.” Anders’s voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper.

“Anyway, I was invited to a party and was hoping you would come with me! By a Seeker, no less, a royal one. A Pentaghast! It seems I’m popular again. Never thought that would happen.”

Anders’s brow grew even more lined as his frown deepened. “You know that it isn’t possible. Not for me. Not anymore. It is good to see you, Hawke, but now I must ask that you leave. I’m only going to put you in danger. And if anyone knew you were here, they might realize and… I was starting to get used to things here.”

Garrett rummaged in his cloak, looking quite serious for one of the few times in his life. That usually meant something bad was about to happen. Or something incredibly intimate. Anders was still never good at predicting which.

He pulled out two masks, one with the beak of a bird and one that looked curiously like a cat. From another hidden pocket, he pulled out a letter.

“It’s a masquerade, nobody will recognize you. They’ll just see two handsome foreign men, dancing together, and wonder.”

Anders was unable to return his smile.

Garrett pushed the letter towards him. “If you’re still concerned, this might help.”

Looking over the parchment, Anders noted an official seal in black wax, a sword and a flaming eye. He knew he had seen it before, but could not place the symbol.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Garrett smiled, not jokingly, but with an incredible sincerity. “When my duties at the Inquisition were over, the Inquisitor herself asked me to name my rewards for my service. I asked for two things. The first was use of her spy network and the Divine’s. The second is here. Open it.”

He obeyed, unsure, hands shaking.

The script was formal, elegant, and very official. The words were even more so.

From this day henceforth, by the combined powers of the Inquisition, the Orlesian Chantry, and of the Free State of Kirkwall, let it be known that the man known as Anders of Kirkwall is hereby granted clemency for all acts of aggression in defense of the Circle mages.

While the parties listed above do not condone the violence utilized to secure their safety, they also recognize that significant attempts were taken to avoid direct confrontation. All means to avoid conflict were denied.

The actions taken by the aforementioned will also be canonized in the Canticle of Light as an act of heroism, on par with those taken during the Andrastian revolution. The Church recognizes that not all progress can be made non-violently and while we mourn the loss of those who died in the explosion and the city that was destroyed, we also understand that through his actions, countless lives were saved and dramatically improved through the reform of the Circles.

Anders of Kirkwall, as of this day in 9:42 Dragon, is protected under the Inquisition. Any move against his person will be considered an act of aggression and will be met with retaliatory force.

There were three signatures under the body of the letter, their scripts as floral as the language: Inquisitor Lavellan, Divine Victoria, and Viscount Varric Tethras of Kirkwall.

Anders held the parchment out away from his face as though it was poisonous. He could not believe it. He did not dare.

He turned the letter over in his hands, reading it again and again, before finally looking up. He stared at Hawke, unblinking.

Hawke grinned. “So, would you accompany me to this soiree? I’m sure the alcohol will be better than what you just poured me. And you look like you could use a drink.”

Anders didn’t know what to do. A pained laugh escaped his chest, quiet at first, but growing until his entire body shook. Tears formed in his eyes, his laugh lines forming. His laughter turned into exhausted sobs and Garrett pulled his arms around him, holding him tightly.

Anders hadn’t laughed, not truly, in years.

He had cried though, but not like this.

Garrett released him, using a calloused hand to wipe his tears away. “I never stopped loving you, despite it all. I hope you will forgive me for not finding you sooner.”

Forgive him ?!

“Hawke, I… I don’t deserve this. I took everything from you.”

Hawke smiled, looking into his eyes. “That may be so, but you gave me something back as well. And call me a selfish bastard, but I want more of it, if you’ll have me. And I won’t let you go this time. But please try not to blow anything else up, okay? I don’t know if I have the clout for two miracles. One was hard enough to secure.”

Anders had to laugh again, tears falling harder, picking up the mask. “I… I love you too, Garrett. It has been so long since I have gone dancing. I would like nothing more. That and… if all of this is true, to be with you as well would be...” He choked on the words. “More than I ever could have hoped for.”

Hawke laughed, extending his hand. “Perfect. I am much too handsome to go to these things alone. And you are much too handsome to be wallowing in this stinking pit. Come with me, I have an apartment that overlooks the city. We can watch the revels from there. We need not join the masses to enjoy their festivities. The party’s tomorrow evening. Stay with me until then? After, we can try and figure out where we go from here. But for now… I have five years of longing to make up for.”

Anders set down his glass, taking the offered hand. He was still stunned, utterly. He smiled, slowly, unsure if he was dreaming. He thought not. Even his happiest dreams had not been this hopeful. He followed Hawke into the crisp autumn air, his boon and his lover in hand.

Hawke had saved the world and all he had asked for in return was the power to save Anders.

He would never understand how he could have been so lucky.

#dragon age fanfiction #handers #garrett hawke #anders #midnight writes

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simonjadis · 5 years

Note

Pppst! Can you talk about your Dragon Age OCs? Who are your faves?

This is a phenomenal Ask!!

My Dragon Age OCs are Azaria Surana, Galen Hawke, Marcel de Serault, and Talyn Adaar.

With the exception of the Marquis de Serault, they are all mages.

[Art of Azaria]

Azaria is a bisexual elf INTJ. She is a mage. As the game establishes, she is both a bright pupil and a powerful one. I figure that Azaria always looked down on the idea of blood magic as a cheap trick to make weak mages stronger until she saw it do just that for Jowan. That was when she began to wonder what it might do for her.

Azaria has a pathological need to be liked. She’s a liar and a manipulator, but most of the people she meets end up finding her likeable and trustworthy. She believes that being a mage makes her better than other people, but didn’t voice her views while studying at Kinloch Hold. The one thing about which she never made any pretense was the chantry, Andraste, and the Maker. The Maker is pretend.

She’s not just a believer in mage rights – she has Magneto-like views of mages. She wants a magocracy because she knows that this is the best way to rule.

As a Grey Warden, Azaria was thrilled with her relative freedom, but aware of the cost. She seduced and deflowered Alistair because literally why wouldn’t you. Eventually, however, it became clear that he was too attached to her. His love for her and desire to remain exclusive, coupled with the knowledge of his heritage, made her gently break up with him. She forced herself to wait a week or two before taking Zevran up on his offer of a “massage.” He was perfect for her. He remains perfect for her.

Morrigan is not only a trusted companion, but her best friend. They share many values. Azaria learned shapeshifting from her, but knows very few forms and does not use this magic in combat.

Azaria named her dog Jowan.

In Redcliffe, she made a deal with a Desire Demon to learn blood magic. She would do anything for an edge against the Blight, and Azaria has no regrets. Her fighting style relies heavily upon fire and blood. She made Alistair and Anora rule together after she convinced him to conduct the Dark Ritual with Morrigan.

Azaria will never succumb to The Calling. In fact, she is determined to prolong her life by any means, and viewed Avernus as a role model in that regard.

Note: when Anders was with the Wardens, she boned him. when Carver was with the Wardens, she boned him. she has great taste. She also did the threesome with Zevran and Isabela.

[I commissioned art of Galen Hawke, but it was lost in the tumblr purge; I still have it of course; Galen’s model is Marlon Teixeira]

Galen is an ENFP and a true Disaster Bi. He’s not as powerful, skilled, or smart as Azaria, but he is outrageously attractive and tends to YOLO his way through life, even – or especally – after facing various family tragedies.

He mostly practices Force Magic in combat, as he trained in that in Lothering to avoid tell-tale signs of an apostate (if people find dead spiders without explanation, that’s one thing. Dead spiders and signs that the entire area was recently encased in ice in the middle of summer? that’s mage work). He grieved his sister Bethany and always wished that Carver were less resentful.

Galen’s mabari is named Hakkon. Galen is not religious, but he grew up with stories of the Alamarri and Avvar.

Galen romanced Isabela and Anders and Merrill and Fenris. I know that polyamory isn’t enabled in the games and I don’t even know if DA2 has a mod to that effect, but that’s my OT5. Galen also hooked up with Jethann and did the threesome with Zevran. Actually, it might be faster to talk about the people in Kirkwall he didn’t bang.

Galen was neutral on blood magic until the murder of his mother, at which point he asked Merrill to teach him. Carver was already a Warden at this point, and Galen wanted to make sure that he’d have every tool at his disposal to protect his family – including his found family. Still, he never really mastered the art or learned to control others – it just gave him an edge in fights and helped him to resist the blood magic of others.

Galen believes in mage rights but doesn’t set out to rule anyone. He might consider himself an activist if he were in our world – though, as a mage, does he have any other choice? He’s not very politically minded. He just wants for him and his friends and everyone they know to be safe and happy, but if he needed to do some magic-murder of some bad people, he doesn’t have a problem with that.

Galen flirted with Tallis. He’s a huge flirt – that’s what he does. Also, he got around when he visited Skyhold.

[I have no art of Marquis Marcel, but he’s a blond fop]

Marquis Marcel just wants to keep his ridiculous, heavily cursed hometown from being overrun by outlaws or intrigue or jungle spirits. He romanced The Wayward Bard, but his thirst for The Silent Hunter is noteworthy. Also, he hooked up with Carver Hawke during the part of The Last Court in which Carver visits.

[Art of Talyn]

Talyn Adaar never expected to become Inquisitor, obviously. She is a distinguished bi and an INTJ. She has a tendency to have somewhat formal speech – a habit she picked up because, too often, humans see their first vashoth and wonder if they can even understand them. She comes across as severe – and she certainly can be severe – but she is a good person who cares about her friends and the fate of the world.

I would say that Talyn is a little more powerful than Galen, but still lower on the magic scale than Azaria. She is a Rift Mage, though in combat she often wields lightning or Force.

Talyn had a casual relationship with Bull early on during her time as Inquisitor. Ultimately, she fell horns-over-heels in love with Sera, who seemed to be her opposite in every way. They married years later, and have matching wedding rings featuring a design with three gold bees.

Talyn’s best friend in the Inquisition is easy to identify – Dorian. Talyn and Cassandra have similar dispositions but different interests. Talyn has a great deal of respect for Vivienne. Talyn was never public with the extent of her dislike for Blackwall, but she regards him with contempt. His lies put her and others in mortal peril. She likes Leliana and respects Morrigan.

She of course secured the best ending for Orlais, with Celene and Briala reunited. Were she to magically read The Masked Empire and have access to all of the information contained therein, she wouldn’t change a thing. She also recruited the mages for obvious reasons.

She was one of those who hooked up with Hawke when he visited Skyhold.

Talyn had never really been religious in any way, shape, or form. She still isn’t, exactly, but after witnessing Hakkon’s spirit leave the physical world in the Frostback Basin, she realized that the Avvar may be theologically correct. Also, she chose to keep the Inquisition to serve Divine Justinia (Leliana).

Anon, thank you so much for asking this!!! (And I’m so sorry that it took so long; I went to bed and then played Anthem with my roommate before he went to work)

PS: the first time, I forgot to answer your question -- Azaria Surana is my favorite. Maybe because she’s my first, or because Origins is my favorite of the games.

#Dragon Age #anon ask #anon #ask #Dragon Age Origins #Dragon Age 2 #Dragon Age Inquisition #Hawke #Surana #Adaar

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faejilly · 6 years

Text

the scratch of wool

oh my gosh, look, another chapter of A Taste of Power! Craziness, I know. Thanks again to @thedivinemissema, she makes me better. She also made this fic WAY better. (She’s magical.)

Theia Hawke vs Kirkwall, during Act III. (Cullen redux, I suppose? Also Meredith is kind of The Worst, even from a distance.)

Hawke stalked the halls of the Keep. It should have been exhilarating, the power she had, the way she could shift the mood of a room with a lifted brow, the way they fell over each other for her favors, everyone from servants to guards to petty nobles.

Even most of the not-so-petty nobles, the ones with power of their own.

She hated it.

It wasn't that they were all afraid of her, all held too still if she stared too long, stepped back when she leaned in; that was expected. She knew she was a monster, but she was a necessary monster, and she knew where her place ought to have been.

Monsters stayed in the shadows, hid behind half-open doors, let their fingers trail against exposed skin until someone shivered, until someone else begged.

She couldn't do that if everyone was watching.

She'd never wanted to be recognized.

Not like this.

Never like this.

She'd much preferred her shadows.

Not that she'd had much choice, but she should have tried. She should have found a way. Instead she'd let Stannard push her into the limelight, had claimed the status of Champion instead of making sure someone else did it.

Fenris would have been an excellent Champion, but apparently an Amell, even a blood mage one, was preferable to an elf. Sometimes Hawke wished she'd just let the Arishok kill them all. They didn't deserve her mercy. They didn't deserve anyone's mercy.

But Leandra would have wanted to save them. Bethany would have saved everyone if she could. Carver, even as he rolled his eyes, would stand between the world and danger. Theia had let herself be weakened by grief and now there weren't any shadows dark enough to hold her. Now everyone knew, now everyone watched. Everyone saw her, and knew how powerful she was. It wasn't safe, being the center of attention like that, and that had always been the point. She did what was necessary and she kept her family secure, kept her people out of danger.

She wasn't helpless. Never again would she be tossed aside by someone else's whim.

Never again would she watch her people die. Never again would anyone manage to surprise her, she'd be prepared. But prepared to fight back was never as good as being ignored. If no one saw you, they never attacked in the first place.

She'd lost that luxury.

But at least she still had power. Had knowledge. She hadn't been surprised when Isabela left.

She had been surprised that Merrill stayed, but only for a moment. They were family, of a sort, if never friends. Merrill would never forgive Hawke for driving Isabela away, but Merrill would never let anyone drive her anywhere, never again, as immovable as Hawke had ever wanted to be.

Probably why they got along. Sort of. Probably why the sex was so good.

If messy.

Varric and Fenris and Anders and Sebastian all still gathered around her table, though none of them liked it. None of them trusted her, but they'd tied themselves together like family, and she'd protect them whether they wanted her to or not.

She'd lost too many, dead or fled as far from her as they could get, to let any of it happen again.

But what was the point of all her influence, all that fear, if she was too closely watched to use it? What use power, if she couldn't use it where she needed it the most?

No one had influence over Stannard. (Not even Stannard it sometimes seemed, though that was a dangerous sort of thought to consider.) Hawke couldn't slip into the Gallows anymore, no one was allowed past the iron gate of the courtyard, but especially not her, especially not now that every Templar knew who she was, knew what she could do.

Not that a one of them cared why, or thought that there could be a why that was worth hearing. Not that a one of them would ever admit that they were more dangerous than she was, in so many ways. Fucking Templars. At least demons kept their word, if you could force them to give it. You never knew where you were with Templars.

She didn't know where she was with her Templars, not anymore. She couldn't let Cullen fuck her behind closed doors and capture whatever hints he let slip, whatever gossip and whispers she could find on her way out.

Not that Cullen was going to fuck her anymore.

He knew, knew precisely how she'd survived the Arishok.

How she'd killed him.

She was surprised Cullen hadn't killed her right then and there, when the world had been so hazy through the steam still rising from the Qunari blood spreading out around her.

She was surprised he hadn't tried later, when she was still recovering, when she was trying so desperately not to shatter like glass, not to let her too fragile mask crack and show her hollow soul beneath it... she'd been vulnerable, lost and weak and wandering, and he knew her well enough to have seen through her act, if he'd tried.

He couldn't have tried, or else he would have taken his chance, would have taken her down, would have stopped her.

Right?

She was surprised again when he showed up for tea.

He didn't look happy about it.

She couldn't recall ever having seen him dressed but not in armor; she wondered how much he missed his usual heavy barrier. The thick wool of Templar's robes draping over a broad chest provided very little protection, either metaphorical or literal. If she wanted, she'd be able to watch every uneven breath he took. Are you angrier about the lack of armor, or the lack of armor here, with me?

She didn't think she'd get an answer, but was that any sort of reason not to try? She hadn't had fun in days. She invited him in, her curtsy brutally precise, her words as formal as possible. She had Orana bring out the fanciest place settings they had, set them in the parlor, made him sit on a chair that cost more than the Chantry would pay him for his entire life, more than the Chantry had paid him for his soul.

She smiled as she poured, and offered him one of Orana's tarts.

His nostrils flared and his hands clenched so hard in his lap she could see his shoulders tense.

"No, then?"

He grunted, and he stared, and his jaw was clenched so tight she could see the shape of the bone. She wondered if he was angrier at her or at himself, as she watched his eyes burn.

But still they flicked down, now and then, looking at the shape of her, the movement of her hands, the neckline of her blouse. He did want to kill her, wanted for his duty to be that simple, but he still wanted to fuck her too.

How confusing for the poor man.

Which impulse would win, if I slipped between him and the table, if I let my hand rest on his chest, if I found out how much of his heat I could feel, even through that robe?

It would certainly be a lot easier to get to his cock than it ever had been in his office, and she was mostly sure she could stop him if he tried to strangle her before or after or during the fucking.

Probably not worth it though.

Probably not a good idea to think about which version of that she wanted.

She failed to swallow a sigh, did manage to resist the urge to widen her smile as he watched her chest as she moved. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this oh so charming visit?"

Something shifted in his face, a hint of something that was almost humor. She let her smile soften, almost truthful. He'd had a nice laugh, the one time she'd heard it. Not that she could blame him for his grim mood; Kirkwall didn't make anyone happy.

"I honor the Knight-Commander's orders."

It took her a moment to remember her own question, and she let her eyebrows lift in honest surprise. "She has assigned you to keep an eye on a free mage who happens to also be Champion."

"And maleficar." The hint of warmth, of humor, was gone so quickly she almost thought she'd imagined it. His voice was a hiss, the sharp edge of his jaw barely moving, the resulting sound almost too soft to hear.

"Now, now." Hawke shook her head, lifted her mug to take a sip, to feel the warm smooth slide of expensive porcelain between her lips, to let the too-hot tea scald her throat, to swallow again before she spoke. "Such a reckless accusation, Knight-Captain. However could your Knight-Commander have recognized a maleficar as Champion?"

He didn't have an answer to that, or not one that he would admit out loud. Either Stannard hadn't been able to tell, which meant she was a singularly inept Templar, or she had wanted something else more than stopping blood magic in its tracks, which meant she was corrupt.

Stannard was never inept.

Still, it would have been nice to have Cullen offer some confirmation, some hint at what Stannard thought she was going to get. No one ever wanted to be the sacrificial lamb staked out in the middle of the field for the werewolves, after all. Hawke idly wondered, as she drank her tea and Cullen glared, as she ate her tart and Cullen ground his teeth, if Cullen knew the Marcher version of that particular saying, so far away as they were from Ferelden's dogs and wolves and monster stories.

She set her cup down with one final soft clink as it tapped against the saucer, and sighed as she brushed the last few crumbs off her fingers.

He hadn't had a single sip, or tried the smallest bite.

A shameful disrespect of Orana's talents, that.

"You think I'm a monster."

He jerked back, an instant of motion before he caught himself, before he either shrugged or nodded agreement, she wasn't sure which. Possibly he wasn't either, but his shoulders had shifted, and his hands were not longer so tightly clasped together.

She sighed. "You're not wrong, but I did everything I did to save my family, to protect those who were mine."

He let out a scoff this time, permitted himself a hint of overt disdain.

She smiled at him, pleasantly surprised that he was smart enough to look worried, to let a frown break through his cold expression. "What's your excuse, then?"

"I am no mons-"

She leaned forward, cutting him off with the sharp lift of her chin.

"What do you do to the people who are yours? Do you protect them? Or do you treat them like objects, broken dirty things that deserve what your brethren do to them?"

He stood, his chair falling backwards and landing awkwardly on the floor, his face twisted and flushed. "I am not like Alr-"

"You're worse." She was tired of this. If he couldn't be useful, he should at least refrain from being so very blind. "You know precisely what happens in the Gallows, and you claim you're better because you're not the one twisting the knife, but you protect those that do."

He turned, a low growl under his breath, stomping his way towards the door. She raised her voice to carry over each heavy step. "You kill them, you threaten them, you silence them, you let them scream, and for what?"

He stopped.

"Is it all because you were tortured once, and you're mad we handled it better than you did?"

She hadn't realized he could move so fast, a twist and a lunge and he'd lifted her by her shoulders, kicked her chair out of the way before she slammed against the wall, hard enough she couldn't quite take a breath, hard enough she could see the flash of the impact cross her vision.

"Moved onto foreplay have we?" She laughed, a gurgle caught in her throat as he shook her, disgust deepening the frown on his face. He was strong enough to smite her, to break every bone in her body if he wanted. He was naive enough to think that would hurt her, as if it compared to her father, to Bethany, to Quentin, to hearing a dog howl and remembering Carver and Cafall curled before the hearth at Gamlen's. She couldn't stop smiling, wider and wider until her face was sore, until her body ached with it. "Do you really think there's anything you could do to me that even begins to compare with what I've survived?"

He made a sound that was clearly supposed to be threatening.

"Do you even know what you want to do to me? Beg for forgiveness?" She leaned into his hold, into the grip of his hands, tight enough she could feel the seams of his gloves pressing faint lines into her skin. Leaned in 'til her breath could reach his skin, 'til the flick of her tongue against her lips would tease. "Kiss me? Beat me? Choke me? Rape me?"

He dropped her, stepping back, and she landed badly, slipping all the way down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her ankles sore and her ass probably bruised and she was laughing again, laughing still, almost silently, shoulders shaking as she looked up at him, waiting for him to lift his head, wondering if she'd finally managed a proper hit, finally broken that wall of denial.

She had expected rage, had expected violence, but he reached out a hand and she could see it trembling, could see his eyes gone too wide, his lips parted on what she recognized as a swallowed silent scream.

She'd done that often enough to feel a twinge of sympathy despite herself.

She took his hand, let him brace as she lifted herself off the floor, kept moving until she was a step closer than he'd probably expected, closer than he'd wanted, reached up and let her free hand rest against that jaw, still sharp enough she half expected it to cut her palm. "Shh."

He jerked back again, dropping her hand like he'd been scalded, shaking his head. Disgust returned to the line of his shoulders and he spit at her, liquid audibly spattering across her feet and the Orlesian carpet beneath them, wordless and crude. He spun around, stumbling over his own feet as he turned and fled.

She didn't follow.

She could hear each heavy step all the way to the foyer, imagined she could hear the door opening, closing again behind him.

She sighed. Bastard still had somewhere to run to... Back to the Knight-Commander. Hawke shuddered. At least she didn't have to see Stannard every morning. Just her shadow, stretching across Kirkwall.

Stannard always knew just where and how to push. She'd keep pushing, harder and harder, just waiting for someone to stumble, someone to crack, and then she'd have someone else to blame. She'd keep pushing until there was no one left who'd dare to meet her eyes, much less try to stand in her way.

Hawke sat back at the table, poured enough cup of tea, slid another tart close enough to eat. Stannard was going to bring them all down, Stannard was going to use them all to feed her own ambition.

Hawke knew she was going to fall. She was just too tired, someday, somehow, she'd take one step too far, she'd stumble, and there would be Stannard to make sure she broke when she landed. Hawke would make such an ideal scape-goat, chained and set out for everyone to see. Mage, refugee, prisoner. Kirkwall was going to fall, and everyone would know that it was its Champion's fault, know that she'd "secretly" been a maleficar, know that she was everything that was wrong with magic, with mages, with the world entire.

Stannard even had Cullen right there at hand to blame for that so-called secret. A Templar who had been watching the Champion, who had to have known, who hadn't done his duty, who hadn't told.

Hawke frowned. She'd earned her place at the end of Stannard's sword, most of Kirkwall had, but that didn't mean they couldn't do better, wouldn't be better if given the opportunity. Even Cullen, ragged and angry as he was, still had a chance, still had a soul. He wouldn't have been so upset if he was truly a lost cause. Part of him still cared, or at least wanted to care.

Bran, Aveline, Elegant, Lirene... Merrill.

Theia swallowed so hard it hurt, tried to remember how to breathe, tried to ignore the sharp pain between her ribs. She couldn't let Meredith win.

But no matter how she tried, Hawke couldn't quite see a path to take that led her anywhere beyond Stannard, every step always ending with them both in the Gallows, face to face, the Knight-Commander's sword at Hawke's throat.

Maybe there was a way, she'd only need a moment, only need to be a half-a-step ahead of the Knight-Commander, only need to discredit Stannard before Stannard attacked. If she was careful, if she was quick enough... Stannard was over-reaching. If Hawke could push her, just a little, just enough off-balance so Stannard fell first?

It could work.

Even if she was too slow to survive, Hawke thought she'd manage to take Stannard with her, was sure that she could slip her dagger past Stannard's guard when Stannard lunged forward at last. Obviously it would be better to get to Stannard first, but if all else failed, Hawke would take Stannard down with her. Hawke might not be able to save herself, but she could save her family.

Maybe that would be enough.

And if not, well. Hawke knew the Fade, knew some demons. Maybe she'd haunt the woman for a decade or two. That would offer a certain amount of satisfaction.

Theia leaned back in her chair to think, and finished the rest of her tea.

#jilly writes #Theia Hawke #Cullen Rutherford #Dragon Age #DA2 #a taste of power

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dyrwoodan · 6 years

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12-30 for the Dragon Age questions!!

omg thank youu!! ;; this will be long…………

12. Do you prefer DA:O, DA2, or DA:I most?

okay okay this one is hard. i would say da2 just because to me it feels like… well, definitely much shorter, you can complete it in a few hours if you only focus on the main quests and you still get the whole amazing plot and i can compare the feeling of playing da2 to the feeling of reading a good book i’ve already read 48 times. i love that game. BUT dao is just amazing. it’s perfect. it’s so good. SO GOOD. so like.. ye ye ye da2 is the winner here BUT dao is close behind, dai….. nowhere.

13. Favorite mission from DA:O?

NATURE OF THE BEAST!! i love that questline. i always look forward to that one. i love the location, the story, the conflict between the elves and the werewolves and it’s overall a great fucking quest i love it so muchbut also lost in dreams is a fun and complex quest. i love the fade parts of the da games, love facing the demons and nightmares and finding the way out,, ‘tis fun

14. Favorite DA:O party combo?

alistair, morrigan, zevran. they are def my faves and they have the best and funniest banters. i don’t even think i bring anyone else?? sometimes leliana

15. Favorite DA:O companion overall?

morrigan ❤️💖💖 im love……….. but also alistair and zevran are close behind

16. DA:O: Did your Warden survive?

i have two main wardens and yea both of them survive because it fits their selfish personality. they wouldn’t sacrifice themselves, if there’s an option to save your ass then why not use it? i’ve been wanting to do a playthrough where my warden dies a heroic death but i just can’t see reason in it. when morrigan offers you….. to live……. why tf not lmao ofc i’m gonna live

17. What did you name your Mabari?

if only i could remember…….. i remember only one name i gave to a mabari in da2- marigold. but i can’t remember the others. i don’t really like the mabari tbh :/ i don’t have a good relationship with dogs in general

18. Who did you choose to rule Fereldan?

aaliyah cousland is the queen with alistair and with caiwyn surana i made alistair the king as well. idk but honestly if you harden alistair i think he’s a good king and i trust him, seems useful to have friends in high places..

19. Favorite mission from DA2?

Bait and Switch and A Bitter Pill…… since i’m a big fenris.. fan. but also The Last Straw, i just really love the whole tension in act 3 and the ending.

20. Was everyone loyal at the end?

usually yeah i like to see all my companions standing by hawke’s side. but lately i’ve been leaving aveline out of this because i don’t feel like being friends with her anymore lmao and i don’t actually care about her approvalbut when i think about it… they all have no reason to not be loyal? i’m always supporting the mages which means anders and merrill will support me no matter what. varric and isabela too because they are friends. and the only people who would leave are fenris and aveline and since i’m usually romancing fenris he doesn’t leave as well. and like i said, idc about aveline

21. Did Hawke side with the Mages or Templars?

mages!! (fun fact: in my very first playthrough i sided with the templars because meredith sounded convincing 👀👀 but i didn’t side with the templars ever since, i cried when i found out i had to kill anders after i let him go, i really cried a river that night. idk why i sided with the templars i should’ve seen the shit coming ;;)

22. Favorite DA2 party combo?

varric, isabela, fenris. i get no mean bickering like this :/

23. Did you give Fenris back to Danarius?

no. what do i get out of it? it’s just unreasonably cruel and unnecessary. if there was some profit in it then i would do it with an “evil” hawke playthrough but i feel like da2 is just a good game to play a good character who loves their friends and wants to help the mages. when i feel like making “evil” choices i play dao or whatever

24. Favorite main-story quest from DA:I?

hmmm.. probably what pride had wrought. it’s more enjoyable i guess. i like the mythal temple and the sentinels and their lore n stuff. just…… elves. i really love elves and elven lore…..also i really like champions of the just, i think that it’s a very cool quest, being in the inquisitor’s head and facing the envy demon. if only i didn’t have to recruit the templars after that. yeh and i like here lies the abyss too because i like the fade and facing the demons and getting out.

25. Favorite DA:I place?

emprise du lion ;; i love the snow….. and the elven ruins are SO BEAUTIFUL there. also the emerald graves… because they are pretty and green and uhhh elven again. AND the hissing wastes because despite being sandy i don’t imagine them being hot, i think it’s quite cold there. they are dark and so quiet and it’s just this never-ending emptiness and i love it.

26. Did your Inquisitor choose the Mages or the Templars?

my three main ones sided with the mages. but i did a few other playthroughs where i sided with the templars just because i wanted to try something different. and like i said earlier, i actually like the templar quest i just hate the templars and i see no reason to seek them out because they are useless

27. Which did you leave behind (Abyss)?

always straud. alistair is the king in my canon worldstates so it’s very easy to choose between hawke and straud. tho i also did some alternative playthroughs where i set alistair as the warden and i would just switch between alistair and hawke but from rational pow… i feel like i should leave hawke behind and let the warden lead the wardens. but since i don’t care about straud and hawke is this public figure i can’t leave them behind :/ yeah and varric’s “where’s hawke?” is heartbreaking

28. Inquisitor’s feelings on being the Herald of Andraste?

all of my main inquisitors (väellera, kaz and lyrhis) are dalish elves and all three of them hate it. kaz the most, it bothers him a lot. lyrhis learns how to use that title and understands its meaning and value. väellera feels powerless in the matter, like it doesn’t matter what she thinks, people are gonna use it anyway, so she stops giving a shit. eventually kaz does the same as väellera

29. What are your feelings on the Chantry?

i personally, in my most humble opinion, loathe it. i’m not really one that should speak about religion, i don’t mean to offend anyone’s beliefs, BUT let’s just say i simply see christianity in it and i don’t have a good relationship with that.

30. What are your feelings on the Circle?

when i started with dragon age, for a short time i thought that the circle is a place for the mages to learn about magic and that it’s similar to the college of winterhold in skyrim. simply a nice place to learn and study. but yeah i quickly stopped thinking that because the circle is nothing like that. it’s a prison and it should be like what i just described but it’s not. i don’t like that the mages are treated as something inferior, they are constantly being watched by the templars if not straight up abused n stuff. they are not allowed to leave, they are treated unfairly, often they pick weak mages for the harrowing because they simply want a reason to kill them when a demon possesses them in the fade. it’s ugly. it’s unjust. not a good place to learn because they only teach you what they want you to know. yeh i don’t like the circle very much.

them da Qs

#thank youuu!! for sending so many 💖 i love talking about da and it shows #henantier #ask #me and m'self

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mysweetavalon · 3 years

Text

I posted 75 times in 2021

why the fuck am i posting this

9 posts created (12%)

66 posts reblogged (88%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 7.3 posts.

I added 27 tags in 2021

#dragon age - 7 posts

#dragon age 2 - 5 posts

#hawke dragon age - 4 posts

#dragon age inquisition - 3 posts

#carver hawke - 2 posts

#dragon age varric - 2 posts

#they're all friends u fools - 1 posts

#character development is sexy - 1 posts

#varric tethras - 1 posts

#leliana romance - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 52 characters

#merrill is a lesbian sorry straighties it’s my month

My Top Posts in 2021

time to go back on my dragon age bullshit is that there r only two templars who i like in dragon age and one of them is carver hawke

4 notes • Posted 2021-11-01 01:41:23 GMT

i will personally hit cullen rutherford for free

4 notes • Posted 2021-02-17 17:43:21 GMT

I love how people can be so relentless to the DA2 characters when it is most likely that, knowing what we know about Varric; exaggerated the party's interactions with each other, was confirmed to have lied about multiple events (before being corrected) and even wrote a book stretching the events. Saying this, we can safely assume that while we know MOST of what the da2 characters are like and that the basic outline of events are true, we cannot trust Varrics word on SOME of their interactions.

One, it's possible Isabela and Aveline's relationship and even the Fenris-Anders-Merrill hate war changed over time, because remember, they knew each other over the COURSE OF SIX YEARS. they've had to have had understandings and personally it's out of character for Anders to not care about refugees or say something nasty about elven religion, because remember, he's HELPING THEM, he's helping refugees and mages when the chantry really won't.

I do believe that Aveline and Isabela especially, and some of Anders and Fenris (and maybe Merrill) did have very nasty confrontations because of their differing stances on magic and that's always gonna be a fact.

Fenris's hate towards mages is unrealistically general, and Merrill was drastically different in the first game, which was separated by around a year to six months to her introduction in the second.

Which further fuels my headcanon that all of them are besties and youre all wrong. /hj

But for real, this is just my stance on it and (makes all my fanfics plausible). I live in a dreamworld where everyone gets along, I know LMAO

I also acknowledge that i could be completely wrong and their interactions were as true as varric could get it, but also, he was talking to cassandra who he didn't trust remotely at the time.

(this does not void the romances either, but do i think varric purposely left out info? fuck yeah)

7 notes • Posted 2021-12-03 15:26:07 GMT

headcanons :3

Merrill would be east Asian irl and i take no exceptions. To me, despite an m!hawke romance existing i also see her as a lesbian, due to the fact she helped me come out of the closet as one a long time ago and that headcanon means so much to me. Personally, due to Varric’s unreliable-ness, seeing her as not getting along with Anders despite similar ideas on demons doesn’t make sense to me. This is why I feel like they’re the best friends who always talk about hating each other but are also their emergency dial.

Varric feels like I could take him as gay or bisexual because I feel like he’s still clinging onto the idea of someone like Bianca and is in sweet sweet denial. Definitely in love with Hawke in all runs, idk, the whole of Da2 is gay to me. He’s also, if not Merrill and Anders being each other’s, EVERYONES emergency dial. Everyone loves varric and he’s always everyone’s go-to. if da were modern, he’d have everyone’s contact names as their nicknames and would always make sure they ate their lunch and ends them good mornings every day

Fenris hates to admit it, but he genuinely likes hanging around with everyone. I also totally see him as being best friends with Anders because varric is unreliable and i said so. I also see him as being called if Varric isn’t reached to get everyone out of shit and is constantly trying to make friends with the guys in the group by organizing “guy nights” with Carver, which all of them hate but it grows on them.

Blue Hawke makes lunches for everyone and makes sure they’re healthy 24/7, and is Varrics contact call. They’re constantly fawning over EVERYONE and makes it obvious they will take no shit. They’re obsessed with a particular look for the manor and certain sandwich style and eventually just lets everyone move in because there’s room and sleepovers are fun.

Isabela is the friend who can and will fight someone for you, and always protects everyone in the field. She runs away a lot but only if she’s positive everyone’s out of harms way for the moment. She also calls varric in literally every situation to the point where he sometimes has to block her on all platforms to keep her from spamming him.

8 notes • Posted 2021-06-02 23:37:32 GMT

yeah, in almost every single life varric and hawke are in love. am i wrong? no. soulmates. fuck you i’m right

39 notes • Posted 2021-02-19 03:49:24 GMT

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

0 notes

feynites · 6 years

Note

Write something for Hawke/Anders pretty please!!! I am really curious about your opinion on Anders and how would you write him.

It was a funny thing, that Justice sometimes made things easier.

Anders didn’t mention it much. It wasn’t something he talked about, even before they made their arrangement. But his father had called him demon long before the first spark of magic ever flared at his fingertips. Frustration frequently boiling over into anger because Anders was not a child who made sense. He was a strange lad, he did things wrong, he got hot and antsy and refused to sit still through chantry sermons, he’d climb up to the roof of the house and burst into tears at odd times. Couldn’t ever focus on a task, couldn’t ever just do what he was told, if he wasn’t tearing up the fields with some strange preoccupation then he was ‘lazing around’.

When it came out that he was a mage, it was his father’s time to be relieved. It was something to blame it on, something to use to get rid of him.

And part of Anders had thought… well. Maybe that was it? Maybe that was why he was so strange. It was the magic in him. When his mind always wandered off, maybe that was a demon, stealing his thoughts. When he couldn’t stand to sit still and just had to find something to go and do, maybe it was his magic that was antsy. When he got tired at strange times and couldn’t sleep right and the whole world seemed so LOUD, and so awful, and so pointless, when all he wanted to do was just sink into place and turn into a stone…

Demons, surely?

Demons and magic and all of these things that made sense.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that he was still different from the other mages, though. For one thing, none of them knew how to handle the fact that he didn’t talk. None of them seemed to have moments like that, or if they did, then it wasn’t very often. His instructors still got cross with him if he couldn’t sit still, and he was still expected to get out of bed early every morning, and make it, and do his chores, and not forget.

He was still out of place. He was still wrong.

It was Anders himself that was the problem. Not his magic.

Maybe, in the long run, though, that was part of what made it so easy for him to figure out that magic wasn’t the problem it was made out to be. Because Anders had demons that had nothing to do with the Fade. And even those demons looked different from the sort that he often saw lurking in the eyes of people like his father - of ‘ordinary’ folk, who were still capable of extraordinary cruelty.

The first time he tried to escape, it wasn’t even on purpose. He never admitted that, because he knew what the templars would make of a mage claiming that some uncontrollable force had tempted them into doing something. But the truth was, he had just gotten so sick of sitting still and staying put that he felt like he was going crawl out of his own skin if he didn’t do something, as if he would die sitting there in the library. It felt visceral, urgent. No spirit had crawled into his skin to put that feeling there. It was just a worsening of ones he’d already known, of impulses that always grew harder to escape when he was tired and forgot to eat and lost track of time and then…

Well.

The next thing he knew he was stowing away in one of the delivery wagons. Honestly not even thinking of ‘escaping’, just of ‘going out’.

When the templars caught him, he confessed to a grand plan, though. He was young and known to be impulsive, and no one really expected him to make it through his Harrowing, so his punishment wasn’t all that bad. Everyone supposed he’d gotten it out of his system.

He had not.

There was no getting ‘it’ out of his system. It was his system.

But even if the Maker and Andraste weren’t really in favour of Anders, some fickle deity seemed to be, because his luck always managed to save him just at the last moment. No matter how close he came to just getting his head lopped off by templars, or to just drowning in the lake, or to just falling off a roof, or meeting the wrong demon in the wrong dream, it didn’t happen. Even in Amaranthine, there was his luck, currently embodied in the Commander of the Grey Wardens, to save him by the skin of his teeth.

Anders would appreciate it more if he didn’t resent the need to be saved so much. It was hard to be grateful to the universe when it had also gotten him into this mess in the first place.

And after Justice, it got harder to remember that other individuals were just… other individuals. Just other people caught up in the same sticky mess of fate. That they weren’t all mere pawn in some grand game, either on the Mages’ side or not. That was how Justice tended to see things. Black and white. This or that. It was Anders’ fault, that corruption.

He never could explain it to someone else, though. ‘Anger’ was easy. Everyone got angry. How was he supposed to explain, on the other hand, that his mind had always felt like there was a switch in it? One Anders himself could never control, could never just get to stay at some middle setting. How could he explain that Justice had understood half-measures better before he came to live in Anders’ mind, and suddenly found himself possessed by his un-demons?

He couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

But a possessed man acting erratically - that made sense. And no one in Kirkwall had ever met Anders before he and Justice teamed up. None of them knew where the differences used to be. So the first time Varric asked him if staying up until the small hours of the morning writing his manifesto was ‘because of Justice’?

Anders just said ‘yes’.

It was amazing the difference an explanation made in people’s estimation of him. Amazing how much more patient they were… or maybe that was just their natures? It was hard to say. But having a word for it helped. Being able to just lean against Hawke and whisper ‘Justice’ and not be faced with any questions he couldn’t answer, not have to find explanations he didn’t have, to just have someone help calm him down or leave the room or even, conversely, bring him water and help him rest, just…

It was amazing, how much easier it made some things.

But there’s always a catch.

“Isabela says she was talking at some people at the Hanged Man, and they claimed the Avvar have some peaceful ways of separating spirits from hosts. Different from any sorts that the chantry know,” Hawke murmurs against him. Voice tentative, the way it always is when this subject comes up. But Anders is feeling calm, right now. Calm, maybe verging on morose, but calm.

He sighs, and runs a hand down his face. Hawke’s lips press gently to his shoulder.

“Well, that’s a reliable source if I ever heard one,” he replies, sardonically. “Isabela’s ‘someone’ from a tavern. I’m surprised you didn’t rush to tell Orsino, or write a letter to the Grand Enchanter…”

“Anders.”

Hawke’s tone is gentle. Which makes it a very effective rebuke. Unfairly so; Anders lets out a breath, and offers an apologetic arm pat.

“I’ll look into it,” he promises. “Just… don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll hold off on scheduling the fancy ‘you and your spirit friend are separate people again’ party,” Hawke assures him.

“Thank you, love, for the impressive restraint.”

Hawke murmurs something sleepy and affectionate, and presses another kiss to him, before drifting off. Anders stays awake. Rubbing gently at the arm slung around him, as if that might make up for the apologies and comfort and explanations that he can’t articulate. He closes his eyes, and sinks, and sinks, and wishes he knew words that weren’t lies. Explanations that would make sense. Because Hawke would understand, if he could explain. He’s almost sure of it. It’s not that he’s afraid of the reaction he’ll get, it’s just…

Just…

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how to say that it’s not Justice. That it’s not magic. That it’s not even the darkspawn taint.

It’s just him.

It’s always just been him.

#handers #tbh i headcanon anders as having always been mentally ill #but i don't credit that for his blowing up the chantry #that was a reasoned act not 'madness'#it was very calculated and he knew what he was doing and why #Anonymous

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autistic-red-jenny · 6 years

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Your ocs + their reactions to when they first realized they have a crush on their love interest

Keira CouslandThe realization was... tricky for Keira. The last person that she slept with was murdered in front of her. So it was like... “Oh he’s cute... oh shit I like him. How is this going to go wrong now.”

Tamsyn Amell It took a while for Tamsyn. Sex was easy, she and Zevran had both done the the casual sex thing before. But feelings are messy and other than a couple crushes when she was a lot younger, it wasn’t anything she’d done before. So not only did it take a while to realize what was going on, it was even harder to figure out what to do next.

Riva Mahariel Riva is a very affectionate person, and she’s never had trouble saying how she feels. So when she realized what she felt, she basically just went for it.

Fiya TabrisFiya is an oblivious lesbian. She kept her feelings deep inside and didn’t realize Leliana returned them until Leliana told her outright.

Aliss HawkeAliss casually flirts with everyone, especially people as attractive as Fenris. She backed off some when they got to know each other because she didn’t want to cross boundaries when that was clearly a little new and sensitive for him (as compared to Isabela, who she flirts with throughout their friendship as a sign of affection). When she realized that she had real, actual feelings, she got more and more awkward around him because she wasn’t used to interaction without six layers of feigned confidence in the way.

Damon Hawke Damon fell hard and fast for Anders. He was nervous for a bit, since Anders seemed to be putting up walls, but every interaction made him happy.

Lanyla LavellanLanyla has had a lot more crushes than relationships--life as a Keeper’s First took a lot of her time. She flirted casually with Cullen, not thinking that anything would happen, and when Cullen actually responded to it she had a fair amount of time going ohshitwhathappensnextohshit before deciding that this fight against Corypheus meant she might die anyway so she might as well go for it.

Nymeria Trevelyan Nymeria found Bull attractive from the first, and the sex was amazing. It took a while to realize that she what she was feeling were actual feelings, and for a while that made her really nervous because she was afraid that would ruin everything. Then Bull told her about the dragon’s tooth thing, and then they killed a dragon and she decided to take a chance and make the necklaces.

Isenna LavellanIsenna is similar to Sera in that she doesn’t beat around the bush when she feels something. She knew what she felt and what she wanted from Sera and Dagna right away. It took a little while to sort of figure out how they all fit together, but she was confident about it.

Hissera Adaar Hissera used to be confident with women. She thought she was cool and suave, and even thought she traveled too much to do serious relationships, she always felt that things went well. Josie sent that all out the window. Just a casual conversation turned Hissera into a fumbling mess.

Anaan Adaar Anaan felt like he had to tread carefully with Dorian. Anaan wanted a real relationship, but knowing Dorian’s past made him nervous about how to approach things. He didn’t want to freak Dorian out or go too quickly, but he also fell hard pretty quickly.

Alanna TrevelyanAlanna respected Barris from the first. [NOTE: In the AU she’s in, pretty much all of my DAI OCs are together. She’s not the Inquisitor, she’s an Inquisition agent and representative of the Ostwick Trevelyan’s interests. She’s part of the delegation sent to the Templars while others go to the mages because I personally think that you should be able to at least try to reach out to both.] When she met him in the middle of all the chaos with the demon, she thought his leadership was impressive. They worked together more once the Inquisition was at Skyhold, and the crush was kind of a slow build. She was wary about getting into a real relationship, considering that her last one left her pregnant and widowed, but she really started to care about him.

Jaina ShepardRealizing that she had feelings for a Turian was less weird for Jaina than realizing that she had feelings for her best friend. It partly seemed like it came out of nowhere, and partly seemed like the most natural thing in the galaxy. Once she was able to wrap her head around that, and considering that they were barreling towards a suicide mission, she just decided to go for it. Hence the “reach and flexibility” conversation.

Cassie RyderCassie is a gigantic dork. She crushed on Jaal quickly, had a period of “what the fuck I shouldn’t get distracted, and he probably doesn’t find humans attractive, and even if he does like humans why would he like me,” then flirted awkwardly until he laughed and flirted back.

Percy Ryder Percy met Reyes post-Meridian. Cassie had already told him who Reyes was, and he was ready to put up a bunch of walls and not trust this dude. He usually didn’t go for smooth, bad boy types anyway; Percy’s type was usually guys who were just as focused and slightly nerdy as him, guys who were responsible and had legitimate jobs. So the crush was a surprise.

#clare pulls an all-nighter #my ocs #keira cousland #tamsyn amell #fiya tabris #riva mahariel #aliss hawke #damon hawke #lanyla lavellan #isenna lavellan #nymeria trevelyan #alanna trevelyan #hissera adaar #anaan adaar #jaina shepard #cassie ryder #percy ryder #i'm writing #Anonymous

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