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msommers · 1 month

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1, 3, 11, 14, 19 for riya, meredith and ellana?

ok so like. ignore the time it took me to get to these. i was in fact thinking of them constantly but the act of actually typing?? horrendous. // oc asks: roots edition

1. How many living parents does your OC have? If they're alive, where are they now and what's your OC's relationship with them? If they're dead, how did they die?

RIYA — two! both of Riya's parents are still living in the ancestral Clairmont estate back in Cumberland, thank goodness. Riya is the biggest daddy's girl known to Thedas, they've been nearly attached at the hip since she was born as she's Loren’s only daughter and youngest child. they had matching outfits, practically a language of their own with all of the in-jokes and references, and she felt safe talking to him about anything and everything. she's not nearly as close with her mother, but their relationship is still good. i think Riya sometimes perceives it as being a little worse than it is, but that's just because she's somebody who craves frequent displays that show how somebody feels about her. Priscilla sacrificed a whole new palatial estate to the Circle of Magi just so Riya could grow up in the comfort she was used to, never truly punished her for shunning her studies and responsibilities, and started pulling on every resource to protect her after the frame job. there's no doubt they love each other with all of their hearts, but Priscilla has trouble with vulnerability and emotional expression, and Riya struggles with the high standards/expectations from her.

MEREDITH — first of all: you're sick and twisted for this. second: zero 💚 they were both casualties of Rendon Howe’s coup. i personally, me myself and i, believe Rendon would have been too much of a cowardly, slimy fuck to be face-to-face with any Cousland when it all kicked off, so i believe that Bryce suffered a fatal stab wound from one of Howe's stealthier soldiers and subsequently bled out in the larder before being found. as for Eleanor?? i'm having a tough time with this one and have been for the whole week it took me to finally get back here. as of right now, i'm fucking with the idea that Eleanor was able to wipe out a small group of the attackers before Rendon finally showed up with his own squad of goons, and she died from one of them stabbing her in the back after she'd gotten far too close to taking Rendon down in a rush attack. i simply find it hard to believe the woman who took down a warship at the age of fifteen would've laid down and died, or been unable to get at least one good strike at the man who filled her with such a powerful vengeance. clearly the fuck didn't die there, but i like to think he spent a good few months recovering from the wound Eleanor left him on her way out.

ELLANA — you'd think after all these years i would have her clan figured out but i kinda forgor 💀 i think her parents would be alive! given who Ellana is, i imagine her family (and clan overall) would hold similar values and they'd lead kinder lives that allow them more peace from outside dangers. i know she'd be a family focused woman so she would have a good relationship with both parents, perhaps closer with her mother just cuz. if i end up making a post in the next few days with a bunch of brand new dalish elves hot off the presses this is your fault (affectionate)

3. How did your OC feel the first time they left home? Why did they leave?

RIYA — answered here!

MEREDITH — first time she left home probably would've been joining her father on teyrn business to visit some bann or other, tagging along because of a young girl's curiosity. likely could have been the first trigger to her becoming interested in politics, bombarding Bryce with questions on the carriage ride to their destination and then somehow finding even more once they were there because she found the business so fascinating. it would have undoubtedly been exciting for her from the jump, and only gotten better the further along they went as she started to learn more and more about the people of the teyrnir and her father's responsibilities.

ELLANA — her clan is one of the rare groups to engage in occasional trade with humans and i imagine this soft-hearted clown would've enjoyed taking part in those ventures, i'll count that as technically leaving home because i'm sure it was at least a week’s worth of time spent traveling out and engaging. she was eager to go! it would have meant a great deal to her that she was being entrusted to join the journey as a protector for those who were going along, and she wouldn't deny feeling a bit of a thrill at the idea of interacting with non-dalish for the first time.

11. What was your OC scared of as a child? Are they still scared of that?

RIYA — answered here!

MEREDITH — Aldous doesn't strike me as the type of teacher to censor or lighten history for the sake of a young mind, which i'm sure Meredith would've been grateful for in her young adult years and onward, but as a child she was often worrying herself to sleeplessness over the dreadful—and sometimes downright evil—acts of humankind. the Orlesian occupation and subsequent war to regain Ferelden’s independence was filled with enough horror stories on its own to fuel her nightmares for years on end. this all probably contributes to her later development of paranoia tbh, but let's not examine that rn. i’d say around her origins era that she’s still holding onto those fears, but she has the added fun and lucky experience of getting to learn that her own countrymen are just as capable of their atrocities.

ELLANA — i think she would have been fortunate enough to avoid any serious fears as a child, in part due to her innate bravery and another to her clan having a more gentle history compared to many others. perhaps a fear of heights, which she'd definitely gotten over by the time the inquisition came around (hi mage barrier + flinging self off a cliff to avoid finding a path combo <3) ((she wouldn't like. Literally do that but it's funny)). something super specific but i feel suits her as she's spent so long in the woods: a forest going silent. not something i think she'd have gotten over, and just the idea of it makes her feel on edge. like what the fuck do you mean all of the wildlife and even the wind has gone quiet because Something Is Coming, that’s always scary.

14. Who was your OC's first love? How do they remember that person now?

RIYA — a noble boy that started training under her brother, Regulus, when she was in her teens. he was a young warrior-in-training with lofty aspirations of gaining glory through acts of altruism and heroics—basically he was a startup version of the heroes she'd grown up hearing stories of from her own family history and other various tales of daring, so naturally she had to pounce on that with all the finesse a 15-year old Riya possessed. it worked because she was pretty and heaped on all of the praises a young fighter would love to hear from a girl (not to mention there's a high chance they already knew each other from running in the same social circles), but it wouldn't have lasted very long. they had a good month or two of a fun and frivolous relationship, but Riya had gotten her first hook-up and that sparked her long-lasting habit of fooling around with a partner until she was abruptly ready to drop them and move on in search of another. she would have been adamant then and would still be now that just because their connection was brief, it doesn't mean her love for him wasn't real (it was a shallow thing entirely based off of her [unsurprisingly] getting horny about a young hero in the making but hey! still counts). i'd say she remembers him fondly because i don't imagine it ended in a Disastrous way. all she's got of him are good memories of early practices for her flirting skills, eagerly observing warrior training, and a judgment-free first sexual experience that probably gave them both a good confidence/happiness boost.

MEREDITH — if there's one thing about me it's that i'm gonna push my “Meredith and Gilmore were childhood sweethearts” agenda whenever i'm handed the opportunity, because i can't be convinced that it's not adorable as hell. a little lady and a young squire?? cuties. babies. must be protected. nothing too serious really but they were in their early teens and had grown up together, having that close bond made it easy to slip into crushes once they hit puberty. he fancied himself her protector and she found it incredibly romantic, as a young noble girly is wont to do. he also knew how to make her laugh, could tell when she was hiding irritation from others to be polite, and took her seriously (which we all know is monumental to a teen girl who has Ideas and Opinions). unfortunately, most of the time when Meredith allows herself the space to remember him, she thinks back to his promise that he would be at her side until she had all of Ferelden wrapped around her finger. makes it harder to face the fact that she’s taking those steps without him, even if she’s managed to find support in others. she’s fond of the times when she can think of him and focus only on his loyalty and courage, rather than the other Horrors which plague her even a decade on. we don’t talk about Fort Drakon <3

ELLANA — the Second of her clan, a girl named Mirisa. a severe case of puppy love that lasted quite a while on both sides. Ellana was practically born with a deep respect and awe for mages, so i imagine that contributed to her developing a crush and subsequently taking any excuse under the sun to be present for Mirisa’s practicing or training so that she could observe the magic. their favored way of wasting the time away and being together was going off to relax under the shade of some tree or other, Ellana with her head in Mirisa’s lap, content listening to the Second ramble on about all she was learning from the Keeper that week. most of the arcane talk went over her head (though she engaged with it as best she could), but her favorite topics were the various tidbits of history that she wasn't learning about in her own teachings. they're probably still friends by the time Ellana is sent to the Conclave tbh and she looks back at their little love affair as an adorable example of harmless, innocent romance. it brings a smile to her face recalling the little moments of sneaking chaste kisses when nobody was looking, or them giggling at nothing simply because they were giddy being near one another.

19. What traditions or stories does your OC carry forward from their childhood to the rest of their life?

RIYA — answered here!

MEREDITH — i’m sitting here trying to come up with a condensed list or something but it’s like. take one look at this woman and you know she’s carried and cataloged literally everything she’s ever been told or learned herself through her entire life. she has names of nobility and military figures memorized from wars and conflicts that haven’t mattered in who knows how long. she’s hoarded knowledge on ancient and abandoned Fereldan traditions just for fun. she can recite the entire timeline of the Cousland family back to its origin and give you cute little blurbs on most, if not all, of the family members. she’s a fucking nerd with an obsession to Know Things due to the assumption that knowledge is power enough to keep her safe and in control, she’s not letting anything slip the mind palace.

ELLANA — naturally she carries and maintains the vir tanadhal as both a dalish and a hunter, feeling more attuned to the vir bor'assan (bend but never break. "as the sapling bends, so must you. in yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength.") out of the three. the vir banal'ras (aka dalish calling for a blood debt to be paid) wasn’t something she clung to very much as a kid but the memory of it came rushing back and became very important to her on a handful of occasions during her time as agent/inquisitor. she wasn’t as religious or spiritual as some of the others from her clan, but she still carried out the traditional ways of worship for the evanuris as any good dalish would.

#ch: valeriya de clairmont #ch: meredith cousland #ch: ellana lavellan #ellana's first love got a name bc i could just use a cheat sheet of names somebody else made lmao #i'm gonna focus on the cute first love things and not you making me confront how the couslands died <3 #thank you for that and all the others these were so fun

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salemcantupdate · 2 months

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Hey so everyone comes up with a detailed timeline for their warden right? That’s just what people do? It’s normal behavior?

Anyways, here’s Stellan Surana (Arcane Warrior / Blood Mage) who romanced Zevran and spared Jowan

Also his decisions go as follows ; Branka allied with, Bhelen made king, Mages sided with, Flemeth slain, Peace brokered between Werewolves and Dalish, Redcliffe defended, Isolde and Conner both survived, completed Slim Couldry’s Crime Wave, completed assassinations for Ignacio, killed Tevinter Slavers, conscripted Loghain, and made Anora and Alistair rule together

Side note official Stellan Surana timeline because I’m normal™️

(Timeline under the cut)

Kinloch to Ostagar : 12 days

2 days in Ostagar

Ostagar to Lothering : 3 days

1 day in Lothering

Lothering to Orzammar : 18 days

Brief stop in Sulcher’s Pass

4 days in Orzammar

4 days in Deep Roads

4 days in Orzammar

16 days to The Anvil of the Void

16 days back to Orzammar

1 day in Orzammar

Orzammar to Kinloch : 15 days

1 day at Lake Calenhad (Oghren and Felsi | Sten Sword p1)

1 day at Kinloch

Kinloch to Flemeth’s Hut : 8 days (Kills Flemeth)

Flemeth’s Hut to Brecilian Forest : 7 days

Traverses the forest for 12 days

Brecilian Forest to Honnleath : 14 days

Honnleath to Orzammar : 14 days

5 days in the deep roads (Cadash Thaig)

Orzammar to Redcliffe : 14 days

1 day ; travel to the castle ; 2 days to the Circle and back (boat)

Redcliffe to Denerim : 16 days (Caravan and Refugees saved)

5 days in Denerim

Denerim to Soldier’s Peak : 8 days (6 days in the caves — somewhat lost)

2 days in Soldier’s Peak

Soldier’s Peak to Battlefield : 6 days

Battlefield to Civil War : 6 days

Civil War to Lake Calenhad : 5 days (cut through Bann Loren’s Lands)

Lake Calenhad to Haven : 17 days (difficult to find)

Haven to Temple : 6 days

Temple to Redcliffe : 14 days

Stays in Redcliffe for 2 days to plan

Redcliffe to Brecilian Forest : 14 days

Stays for 2 days

Brecilian Forest to Denerim : 7 day

6 days before Eamon arrives : 3 days of settling in the Estate : 5 days in and around Denerim

Acquires Horses : 1 day to Kadan-Fe : 4 days to Jowan : 14 days to Orzammar (stays 2 days) : 8 days to Denerim (stops at Soldiers Peak for an extra 6 days)

4 days preparing for Landsmeet : 2 days of Landsmeet

Denerim to Ostagar : 14 days (horseback)

Ostagar to Redcliffe : 2 days (horseback)

Stays 1 day

Redcliffe to Denerim : 14 days (forced march)

365 days

#I’m totally normal #dao #dragon age origins #Stellan Surana #surana #warden Surana #dao timeline #dao meta #dragon age meta #dragon age timeline #salemcantupdate talks

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videogame-ocs · 1 year

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I can’t get the implications out of my mind of the fact that my canon Grey Warden/Hero of Ferelden, Amelia Cousland, had only just turned eighteen years old at the start of Origins. She is practically still a teenager! On the very cusp of adulthood!

Pre start of game, her parents are discussing about her future, preparing her for her future, she’s been half pushed to marry Dairren, the son of Lady Landra and Bann Loren by Lady Landra, she’s being left the entire run of the castle, essentially as a test of her skills for the future, she’s never even fought in a real battle before, and yet she still enjoys spending time with her nephew, teasing her older brother, playing with her mabari, and although she’s a good, kind and compassionate girl, she still has the last dregs of teenage innocence and impatience in her.

Then, in one night everything comes crashing down; she loses her home, the staff who watched her grow and she regards as friends and family, her potential future husband, all but bar one of her actual family. She is conscripted into the Grey Wardens because she refused as her brain is in a fog, Duncan has to drag her away from her parents.

And then, she’s suddenly unknowingly met her future husband, joined the Wardens, lost her mentor and the king of Ferelden, been shot by several arrows, rescued by an old witch (well, reincarnated spirit of an Elven god) and her daughter, potentially lost her brother (although she never truly believes it and she’s right), been made a fugitive, and she’s in charge of gathering up an army and fighting an evil tyrant and the fifth blight.

Even her choice to continue to court Alistair despite knowing that the likelihood of them going their separate ways after the Blight is high, with the possibility of her being the last Cousland and Alistair's real chance at becoming King, at that age she doesn't even think of being Queen as an option until the night before the Landsmeet. She just....in a typically stubborn teenage way, loves Alistair, her first love and naively thinks they'll be together forever (they are, of course but, like I said, she doesn't think of the fact she'll have to take action to make that future until just before the Landsmeet).

This all happens before she is in her twenties. She’s nineteen when she puts Alistair on the throne, kills the archdemon, becomes the queen of Ferelden, marries Alistair and defeats the Architect and loses Morrigan, one of her closest friends, through the Eluvian.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #oc: amelia cousland #hero of ferelden #alistair x female warden

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royalbstrd · 2 years

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From the moment they leave Bann Loren's Lands after talking to Elric, Alistair is very conflicted on going through with going back to Ostagar and finding the chest or not. Ultimately decides doing it is the better option (if anything for a bit of revenge and closure but he won't admit that). If the HoF agrees to doing it he all but insists on going along (insert a very sore Alistair if you decide to not drag him along - much disapproval).

This would be the first time since the journey to Lothering that Alistair would be near silent unless prompted to talk. Returning hurts. He knew it would but you never fully understand just how much until you do it. It really just re-sparks the should've been there should've died with them thought process and he does not take it well. He could've done more. He should've done more.

That sadness and guilt gets a good chunk of it replaced with anger as soon as the fact there's darkspawn running around with the pieces of Cailan's armor is realized. He is not going to stand around while those monsters have it in their grimy claws. If taking the armor Alistair will not wear it himself (being labeled as a king killer and then marching around in said king's armor doesn't look good), but if the HoF decides to take it and wear it themselves, power to them. At least they deserve it more than those damn darkspawn.

Once finding the chest, he isn't going to outright ask for Maric's blade but also are you going to say no to those puppy eyes?? Same goes for Duncan's sword (probably even more so for Duncan's honestly) once that's found. Really, unless the HoF is a rogue he'd also rather keep Duncan's dagger as well - not that he would use it but it is sentimental and would just mean a lot to him to hold onto it.

Choose to do anything other than cut Cailan down and give him a proper funeral pyre, you will receive a silent angry upset bitter Alistair. He is not above being a child and giving the silent treatment for it. And even though you never find Duncan's body in RTO - if you did he would insist they give Duncan the same respect of at least a quick funeral pyre.

#grey warden {alistair}#have a bunch of word vomit that my brain woke up thinking about #today we have sad alistair feels

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couriersiccs · 4 months

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Gift and kiss !

GIFT: What was the first important gift your OC remembers receiving? Who was it from, and what was the occasion? Do they still have it?

The first truly unique gift that Mar received was a braided lock of her partner Angie's hair, woven into a bracelet. Angie had given it to her on the first of Mar's birthdays they'd celebrated, along with a drawing of Mar's "big three" star signs (Pisces Sun, Taurus Moon, Capricorn Rising). The drawing is thumb-tacked onto Mar's bedroom wall above her disorganized, dusty little "witchy shit" altar, upon which the bracelet rests as part of the centerpiece.

KISS: What was your OC's first kiss like? Who was it with? Do they remember it?

Ghilya was close with another girl in the Denerim Alienage named Amethyne, whose mother, Iona, worked as lady-in-waiting to Lady Landra, the wife of Bann Loren at Caer Oswin. Ghilya's parents looked after Amethyne often, so she and Ghilya were childhood friends.

On Satinalia in 9:29, while Iona was visiting for the holiday and talking with Ghilya's mother, Serenna, a fourteen-year-old Ghilya and Amethyne snuck out and climbed to the highest roof of the alienage's apartments to watch Satina crest over the horizon together. Amethyne kissed her, and Ghilya hadn't expected it, got scared, and ran all the way back home. Ghilya couldn't risk her getting close. If anyone found out she was a mage, she might get taken away to a Circle like her father had been four years prior. They stayed friends, although Ghilya wished they could've been more.

#oc: marlaina andrade #oc: ghilya kallas #thank you so much!!!!#lowkey i forget i'd put one of those character building questions posts in my queue #and i was very confused abt what this cryptic ask meant #I FIGURED IT OUT THOUGH #.txt #character building

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444names · 1 year

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Names generated from German forenames and Brythonic deities

Abetis Abnosebar Abnot Abricus Abris Ademin Adiseb Adonraina Adramnas Aelgan Agmund Agnextin Agried Aldelgenz Aliede Aliedinna Aliel Alike Allonnas Almunose Alvenza Alwilia Amarstias Ampeter Amunusus Ancado Ancart Andamna Anextis Anians Aniastann Anichert Aniedam Ankouise Annah Annust Ardin Arick Arunna Arvos Audonrick Aufan Auker Aurina Avermante Aveteria Avini...

Banne Baridiede Barine Baris Bastinos Belikata Berach Beriched Berin Berither Bislast Bodonas Boria Borise Borruditz Borrus Borst Brich Brida Brielmina Brios Britz Brusanko Bustonna Buxenz Camannis Cameina Camnana Caras Caraus Carco Carmaraco Cartia Cartra Castia Celatamos Cetephert Chandran Chanthel Chara Chilby Chilina Chria Chrich Chrios Chris Cimbius Cober Cobete Cocid Cocide Cocis Colatou Colauke Coldarst Collatte Colter Conus Coretch Coreth Coriegar Dalde Dalia Damard Dampes Damut Damutto Daridona Dinhan Disamar Edemarl Ediand Eidatya Einiedius Eintard Ekkevick Elenus Elhando Eliank Eliediast Elised Ellmilied Ellmut Elvenz Elvius Emalwig Emansguin Emarl Emmetrin Erius Esternus Estrin Evinhard Evith Ewalbelsa Ewalph Felher Flonieb Frang Freastrin Fredra Freid Frieb Friedria Friessan Frios Frisann Frist Frius Gebhandt Gelde Gelfrid Genus Geored Georia Georistio Gerian Geridele Gerissona Gerne Gerola Gerolaus Gerolf Gertia Gertrik Gilin Gilois Gomert Goton Gotut Greatona Grederin Gredris Greina Gring Grudwiga Gruthil Gunnadeld Gunolf Gunus Güntefand Haelmina Haldele Handt Hardin Hares Harnheine Heilder Heildo Heina Heinane Heine Heinesula Heinfris Heinico Helenana Helenz Helgar Helia Helian Heliede Helios Helke Hella Helle Hellud Helluin Helmalwie Helmulria Helvitz Heniva Henus Herharum Herne Hernelip Hernus Heryl Hilher Hilotto Holder Holia Homarlene Homona Horesla Horete Hubete Huelianko Huellar Huelmank Hueter Huetiando Huetimild Hunda Hundolby Iliebke Iliedmut Ingrus Irkonald Issin Issona Istella Isulrabas Jantheine Jeriancad Jernundt Joach Johaelf Johar Johard Johardied Joharitz Joharus Jonald Jonus Jullus Julrikas Jörger Jürgang Karather Karle Kevid Klarne Klattonah Klaugunda Klaul Kolis Konnat Kurame Kuras Kurick Latis Latucera Laugus Lenald Leucetert Leucimbis Liester Liste Loren Ludwin Luinah Maldalm Mandrid Mandt Mapom Mapomara Mapomor Mapon Maran Marbar Marete Maris Marissond Marma Marobis Marola Marudon Maxenus Maxim Melfrane Merstina Michrigis Milheid Milied Mingrein Minrad Miosel Mirias Miricura Mogus Monus Mutinanza Natona Nichild Nicola Nikolas Ninrarver Ninthena Nivin Nobel Nolber Nolevina Ogerd Ogmuta Olatineld Olatrisl Olatutz Olaus Olied Orich Oritz Orste Ottona Patephild Patja Peterstia Philhelen Radsulra Raina Raldand Raliega Ralouisa Ramar Ranus Rarlheido Rauka Rauraugus Raustel Reatrus Rediestis Retio Rintof Robia Rogma Rolaf Rolas Rolgars Rolge Rolis Rolteph Roltrine Romellisa Ronich Rosch Rundramna Saberick Sagus Samaltou Samel Sannot Sanusth Segfrin Segobodo Sheidisa Sinann Sinza Siselin Sissies Smuter Sthmarnus Stissa Stontutz Svenz Sverd Sverick Sylvine Talvius Therne Thilis Thilotth Thmanner Toberta Tobinusus Tomar Tomelhel Tonik Tonus Torey Torid Udenus Uderich Udonus Udwina Ulassonus Ulaus Ullata Urantutz Uride Urstin Uwerndam Uwernus Vetiannus Vheid Vhertreid Vinictout Vinner Vinnes Viovius Viralde Wenus Wericus Wermain Wiedald Wietian Wigan Wigis Wilis Wiltoma Winad Winrid Wolla Wollrick Wolph Xelhard Yveterd Yveto Yveton

#444 names #444names #dnd names #fantasy names #name stash #fantasy name #names #markov gen #markovgen #character names #random fantasy names

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mage-age · 2 years

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trying to put together an order for my Warden to do all the quests in and dear god is it a nightmare.

My first thought was starting with Redcliffe from Lothering, since its the closest option (aside from the Dalish, who don't have an exact location known).

Then going into Broken Circle, to try and save Connor (with a quick detour into Bann Loren's lands to trigger Return to Ostagar) and returning to Redcliffe, where all the problem's start.

First: I want Shale. Problem is, Shale's quest triggers halfway to Ostagar on the other side of Lake Calenhad as Broken Circle. And then Honnleath requires going back down past Redcliffe. Wish they'd just dropped Shale in Redcliffe like they originally planned to, but whatever, I can just wait to do that later.

Second Problem: We have now triggered The Urn of Sacred Ashes a quest that requires you to go to Denerim and then fuck about in the Frostback Mountains to save the life of a single man. Said man is dying of poison so the quest can't really be delayed.

Not helping matters, is its been a while since I've actually played the game so I can't remember how much incentive the game actually gives you to do this damn main story quest. Its essential! But why does my character care???

Why did Bioware decide to make this complex quest-line involve going so far out of the way and criss-crossing across the whole damn country????

Okay, I so they decide to go to Denerim to save this one man, but they detour past through the Brecilian Outskirts to meet the Dalish first. Then they go tramping through the ENTIRE BRECILIAN FOREST! Bioware... why are these quests so spread out???? Why is there an entire forest between the Dalish and the werewolves?

(Honestly, the Dalish Origin and Nature of the Beast should have swapped places. Would make more sense for Duncan to detour just off the path from Denerim in that origin instead of going through half the forest in the opposite direction to Ostagar.)

Whatever, at least we have a reason to be going so far off track. Gotta recruit the Dalish! Or werewolves, if you're feeling evil. I'm not so we get the Dalish and the Werewolves to make peace and march our buts on to Denerim. I do not remember how much Denerim stuff you can do before the Landsmeet triggers, but we'll say they do an appropriate amount of it. We will also say that this is where the Warden meets Lyon (triggering the Warden's Keep DLC).

Back in rational plot decisions land, Warden's Keep is on the same road to Orzammar, they'll stop by on their way and deal with that, and pop into Orzammar to pick up the Dwarves. Then once they've recruited the final party member and elected the new king, they'll head down to Haven.

Passing through Sulcher's Pass to trigger the Shale Quest. Also, might shift the Bann Loren bit here. It fits better I feel. Especially since Ostagar is SUCH a detour from everything its going to HAVE to happen late in the game.

Then we've got Haven, back to Redcliffe by way of Honnleath to get Shale, wake up that dumb fucking Arl Sleeping Beauty and on to the the Landsmeet... with a detour through Ostagar to do all that stuff. Elect a king (... again??? Bioware, you do understand how monarchies work... right?) Prepare for war. Decide if you wanna make a demon baby. Find out the war is happening elsewhere. Kill the archdemon. and we're done with this overly complicated route.

(no. I'm not figuring out if any side quests require me to back track. They can suffer.)

visual depiction of this crazy route under the cut.

Journey from Lothering to Redcliffe and the trip to the Circle of Magi and back shown in Red.

Journey from Redcliffe to the Dalish in the Brecilian Outskirts and deep into the forest and back shown in Blue.

Journey from the Outskirts to Denerim shown in White.

Journey from Denerim to Orzammar with detours to Warden's Keep and Bann Loren's lands shown in yellow.

Journey from Orzammar to Sulcher's Pass, through to Haven and from Haven to the Temple of Sacred Ashes shown in Purple.

Journey from the Temple to Honnleath and back to Redcliffe shown in aqua.

Journey from Redcliffe to Ostagar and back to Denerim shown in maroon.

Journey from Denerim to Redcliffe and back to Denerim not pictured because there is already four colours on that damn road.

Oh god, now I have to figure out the order to do the post game DLC in.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Origins

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anneapocalypse · 2 years

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The Tragic Tale of Bann Loren's Family

As I’ve been playing a Cousland for the first time in a decade, I noticed something I thought was interesting.

Remember Lady Landra? If you don’t, she’s a friend of Teyrna Eleanor, Warden Cousland’s mother, who is visiting Castle Cousland during the origin story. She has arrived to keep Eleanor company when Bryce and Fergus march south to war, and Eleanor plans to go spend some time at her estate as well. Eleanor introduces her as “Lady Landra, Bann Loren’s wife.” She has come with her son Dairren and her elven lady-in-waiting Iona, either of whom can be flirted with and invited to the protagonist’s bedroom for the evening. In conversation, Lady Landry coyly remarks to a female protagonist that Dairren is “not married yet either,” suggesting that she might be pleased if the younger Cousland took an interest in her son.

Later, during the attack on Castle Cousland by Arl Howe’s men, the soon-to-be Warden Cousland and Eleanor find Lady Landra dead in her guest bedroom. Eleanor grieves for her friend, lamenting, “If she hadn’t come to me… If she hadn’t been here…”

Why is this interesting? Well, we hear of Bann Loren later, as it happens.

The beginning of the Return to Ostagar DLC takes place on Bann Loren’s lands, where the game describes Bann Loren as “a well-known minor lord and little-loved for the fluidity of his allegiances.” There the Warden can witness Elric Maraigne, a confidant of King Cailan, being attacked by a group of the Bann’s soldiers. Before succumbing to his wounds, he will explain that he was captured and tortured by Bann Loren, and implore the Warden to return to Ostagar to recover some sensitive documents belonging to King Cailan, as well as his his sword.

While it is not stated outright, this scene implies that Bann Loren was working for Loghain at the time. I can think of no other reason he would capture and torture a confidant of King Cailan. But if that was the case—if he was an ally of Loghain and Howe—then why were his wife and son not spared in the attack on Castle Cousland?

We hear of Bann Loren again in Inquisition. His castle, Caer Oswin, has been overtaken by an extremist group called the Order of Fiery Promise. In the castle, a letter from Bann Alfstanna Eremon can be found:

I worry about Loren daily. Ever since the death of his wife and son in Highever at the onset of the Blight, he retreats further and further into reclusion.

Almost no one is permitted to come to Caer Oswin. The last time I managed to see him, it was only because I bullied my way into the castle and insisted his strange new guards take me to him. And I say "strange new guards" for a reason: almost all the Oswin retainers have been sent away. These men didn't wear Bann Loren's colors, and they struck me more as prison wardens than as protectors. Loren himself was pale and almost delirious. I begged him to see a physic, and he promised he would, but I doubt he ever did.

The guards ushered me out in a hurry, and the last time I returned, I was not even allowed past the gate. It's been months since anyone saw Loren at all. I fear the worst has happened, yet I can prove nothing. All I can do is pray the rest of the Bannorn take notice and act before a good man is lost.

Evidently, someone thinks Loren was a good man after all. It has been ten years; perhaps time and loss has changed him.

The question remains whether he was already in league with Loghain before Ostagar, and whether he knew that Castle Cousland was going to be attacked while his wife and son were there. I suspect that he did not. While it is possible that Dairren was not his sole heir, even if Loren had some reason he wished to dispose of his wife, it would make little sense politically to send his son to the same fate.

I suspect that this was simply a tragic mistake. If Loren was already in league with Loghain, I don’t think he knew that Howe would be attacking the Couslands. It’s also possible that Loren’s allegiance to Loghain came later—with his wife and son already dead, a Blight rising from the south, and Loghain declaring himself regent, a man of “fluid allegiances” may have seen no sensible option but to fall in line behind Ferelden’s new ruler and to do his bidding.

Whatever the case, Alfstanna’s letter suggests that the loss of his family sent Loren into a long period of decline—likely ending with his own castle being overtaken, and Loren possessing little will to stop it.

I wonder if perhaps he only found out after throwing in his lot with Loghain that the regent he served had sanctioned Howe’s attack on the Couslands—and been therefore complicit in the murder of his wife and son. I wonder if he was plagued by guilt.

If so, it seems he never recovered from it.

#bann loren #lady landra #dairren #caer oswin #dragon age meta #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #blunders of thedas

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elevanetheirin · 7 years

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I always forget that we meet Bann Loren’s wife in Origins as a Cousland then we go to Caer Oswin in DAI with Cassandra. She says “Bann Loren was always a Pius man” It’s no wonder he bought into the whole cult thing considering Howe killed his wife and son at Cousland Castle several years previously.

#Bann Loren #Caer Oswin #Highever Castle

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aldmerii-blog · 6 years

Photo

ᴄᴀᴇʀ ᴏsᴡɪɴ

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #daedit #daiedit #dai #bann loren ya really let the place go!#mine

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poisoncherrywine · 4 years

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Caer Oswin

All I can do is pray the rest of the Bannorn take notice and act before a good man is lost.

—From a letter by Bann Alfstanna Eremon, Dragon 9:40

#dai #daiedit #daedit #daedits #dragon age scenery #video game scenery #dai scenery #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #my edits #my edit

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crackinglamb · 3 years

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WIP Whenever/Wednesday

Tagged by @rosebud1773, thank you!

Tagging @whataboutbugs, @thepotoosrevenge, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @mordinette and @lalaenwrites. No pressure!

I had to do some jiggery pokery to Wicked Game. It happens, sometimes the plot runs away on its own course and I forget that certain things should be included. Then I remember them 20 chapters later. Thankfully, the backlog of already written stuff is big enough that I hadn't reached this point in posting yet, so aside from me telling you all, you would never have known.

Anyway...some Imogen and Cassandra.

---

Cass looked down at the map of Ferelden, seeing where Caer Oswin stood in relation to Skyhold. “Why there?”

“The Order of Fiery Promise overthrew Bann Loren and have been using the castle as their headquarters. It's isolated and no one was allowed in or out since the Blight as it was, since Loren was off his rocker. I don't know exactly how the Lord Seeker made his deal with them, but they've been luring in Seekers to ambush them. I do know that Samson, the leader of Corypheus's Templars, is in charge of the whole mess.”

“Wasn't he banished from the Templar Order?”

“Yeah, he was. That's a whole other kettle of fish that we don't need to get into right now. Right now, we need to get out to that castle before the Promisers start force feeding the remaining Seekers red lyrium and growing demons in them, since they can't be possessed.”

Cassandra turned very pale and her fingernails dug into the wood of the War Table. “That should not be possible.”

“No, it shouldn't. Frankly, I don't know how it works, or even if it works. It could just be a lie the Seekers were told. Regardless of what's actually happening, the one thing I do know is that the source of my information was quite ill. Ill enough that you...you end up giving him mercy.”

“Who was it?”

Imogen rested her hand over Cass's taut, white-knuckled one. “Your apprentice. Daniel.”

“Maker drag them to the Void,” she swore. Her free hand punched against the table, making Imogen jump. Cass looked her in the eye and nodded sharply. “I can be ready in one hour.”

“I'll put together a team.”

#tagged #wip whenever #wip wednesday #what a wicked game to play #sometimes it sucks being mgit and knowing what happens

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laurelsofhighever · 4 years

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The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #cousland #f!cousland #rosslyn cousland #the falcon and the rose

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visenyatargaryn · 4 years

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Despite being a Teryn’s daughter, Ophelia Cousland dreams of a grander life. One that is filled with sword fights and adventure, but is instead forced to play the noble lady and entertain the wives of dignitaries. However, all of that comes crashing down when tragedy strikes, forcing her out of her very own home and losing everything she loved in the process. Darkness and light are two sides of the same coin, but will Ophelia strive more towards the light? Or will darkness overcome her in her need for vengeance and the will to survive?

With the impending darkspawn invasion, and a civil war threatening to break out across Ferelden… will she be able to put a stop to it all and save her homeland? Or will it all be too late to stop the inevitable?

CHAPTER THREE || Goodbye, Brother || G || 4000 words || ao3

Ophelia finds herself in a difficult situation when she hears the reasoning behind the Greywarden’s arrival at Castle Cousland. Meanwhile, it is finally time for her to do the thing she dreaded for so long—to wish her brother farewell before he heads off to Ostagar to battle darkspawn, but not before coming face to face with familiar and new faces.

Ophelia and Ser Gilmore walked through the halls of the castle with Amadis padding at their heels. Her mind was swirling with thoughts—many of which were none too pleasant. The strangeness of Arl Howe's behavior from earlier still unnerved her greatly. She had never been too fond of her father’s old friend, as she always sensed something about the man was… off. Almost as if he were hiding something…

“Is everything okay, Ophelia?” Ser Gilmore asked as they walked. She had nearly forgotten the Knight was currently present as she had been lost in thought.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just have a lot on my mind is all,” she answered, half-truthfully, shaking her head as if to rid herself of such thoughts.

“You know, I have been told that I’m an excellent listener,” Roderick said, offering a smile that reached his bright, blue eyes.

Ophelia returned a small smile. “I’m just worried about the upcoming battle is all, with my father and brother away, I’m to be the one in charge. I don’t know if I’m even qualified enough for such a task.”

It wasn’t the entire truth, but she did not wish to bring up their previous conversation She knew there was no point in trying to convince the Knight of her speculations on the Arl, no matter how persuasive she could be. Besides, it wasn’t entirely a lie either since the thought of the battle did not sit well with her.

“You have nothing to fear, Ophelia. There are to be at least 50,000 men and women at Ostagar, and that’s including the mages,” Ser Gilmore said, in an attempt to comfort her. “Your father would never have appointed you as the one in charge if he didn’t think you were fit for it. Besides, the Teryna will be there to counsel you, and I will be at your side, as always.”

Her smile faltered while fighting the tears that were threatening to come. “Except that’s only half true, Roderick. You won’t be here by my side, or ever again for that matter. The Grey Warden—Duncan, he’s planning to recruit you.”

“What? You can’t be serious?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you about such things…”

“But—Who will protect you once I’m gone? Surely there must be a better candidate than myself?”

Ophelia wanted to hug him. Out of all the reasons he could have said for not wanting to join the Grey Wardens, it was her that he thought of first. It was never his own self that he worried about most, it was always her and her alone.

“Roderick, you know there’s nothing that can be done,” she said, wishing it were somehow untrue. “Someone new will be assigned or perhaps no one at all. After all, I’m not the defenseless damsel I was all those years ago. You will be off to join a legendary group of warriors—which might I add, you would make an excellent candidate for.”

After a long, never-ending silence, Ophelia looked up at her friend. The look on his face tore at the seams of her heart. It was as if a million battles were happening inside his head, and he didn’t know how he could possibly win either of them. Not wanting to endure this any longer, she grabbed hold of his calloused hand, causing him to halt his steps and look down at the Teryn’s daughter.

“You are my dearest friend, Roderick, and as much as it pains me to say this, please, don’t fight it. There is no outcome in which you would win in this situation,” Ophelia said, offering him her best smile. “Besides, after everything is over, I could come and visit you. Would you like that?”

A small smile appeared at the corner of the Knight’s lips. “Yes… I would like that quite a lot.”

“Good. Now, let us not waste any more time. I would like to wish my brother farewell while I still have the chance.”

Rounding the corner, they found the Teryna speaking with some guests, two of which Ophelia recognized as Lady Landra, and her son, Dairen. The third, however, was one she did not know. An elven woman with a slender build, with hair the color of honey stood between Lady Landra and her son. Ophelia thought she was quite pretty. They approached, and Eleanor Cousland greeted her daughter, while Ser Gilmore bowed politely.

“Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchens has been dealt with?”

Amadis barked at the mention of her name, startling the young elf. Ophelia gave her an apologetic smile before turning her attention back toward the Teryna.

“Yes, Mother. Nan is back to work as we speak,” Ophelia answered, avoiding to bring up the reason why Amadis was causing trouble in the first place, as there were guests present.

“That’s good to hear,” the Teryna answered. “You remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren’s wife?”

Lady Landra stepped forward to greet her. “I believe we last met at your mother’s spring salon. It was quite a lovely occasion.”

“Of course. It is good to see you once more, my lady,” Ophelia agreed, offering the Bann’s wife a warm smile. She remembered Lady Landra getting quite drunk on wine after her mother had told the servants to bring it up from the cellar. It resulted in even more brazen, but unsuccessful attempts to get Ophelia to agree to a marriage proposal with her son.

“You are too polite, dear girl. I do remember spending the evening trying to persuade you to marry my son. However, like you, he is still yet to be married.”

“And you’re still making a feeble case for it, I might add,” Dairren interjected, turning towards Ophelia with a bright smile. “Don’t listen to her. I can assure you that I came here, not as a suitor, but to assist your father.”

She furrowed her brows. “My father?”

“I’m to accompany him when we ride out tomorrow as his second. It is quite the honor, I might add,” he said, giving her a pleasant smile.

“Then, I trust you will make sure that you will keep my father safe and, most importantly, alive?” Ophelia asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure the Teryn is safely returned to his family.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something but was cut off by Lady Landra before she could muster a word.

“Anyway, this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona,” Lady Landra said, interrupting the two as she motioned to the woman beside her. “Do say something, my dear.”

“It is quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” the elf—Iona said with such shyness. “The rumors of your beauty were not falsehoods, it seems.”

Ophelia blushed at her words. Although, she might have said the same about Iona. From afar, the elf looked merely pretty, but up close… it was an entirely different matter. Her honey-colored hair was long and worn in a beautiful crown plait as elven ears peeked out from the sides. Her large eyes were stunningly blue, like cornflowers, that sparkled when the light hit them. Ophelia smiled in thanks to the compliment.

“And yet that doesn’t seem to make it any easier to find a suitable match for her,” added the Teryna.

“I would say that you should be proud to have a daughter who’s most skilled, my lady,” Dairren interjects, offering Ophelia a smile.

“But alas, pride doesn’t get me any more grandchildren,” Eleanor sighed, looking to her daughter.

“Mother!” Ophelia groaned, not wanting to hear no more talk of marriage or even grandchildren.

“Well, I suppose we shall retire until the evening. We will see you all at dinner,” Lady Landra said, before taking her leave.

As she and Iona dismiss themselves and head back towards the castle, Dairren reaches for Ophelia's delicate hand and pressing his lips against it in a tender kiss, before peering up at her. “It was a pleasure to see you once more, my lady. Shall I see you later?”

At the corner of her eye, she saw Ser Gilmore tense slightly at the gesture.

“I—of course, Dairren,” Ophelia said sweetly, offering him a smile. Watching the young man leave, she felt her face burn from the flirtation.

“What a charming young man,” the Teryna mused.

“Mother, no,” Ophelia warned, not wanting to hear more of this.

Eleanor raised a brow. “No, what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

The Teryna sighed. “You must marry at some point, Ophelia, and he’s a polite, handsome young man from a good family…”

“Yes, I know. I’m just… not ready is all. I do wish to enjoy my youth while I can, which I hope is something you can understand, mother.”

“Of course, my dear,” Eleanor said, finally defeated as she reaches to caress her daughter’s cheek. “By the Maker, how you have grown so quickly! I still remember when we used to walk around the gardens when you were little. Do you remember?”

Ophelia smiles fondly at the memory. “I do, actually. We would walk around, and you would continuously point out the different types of flowers as we passed. Afterward, we would sit below our favorite tree, the slightly crooked one, and you would read to me.”

“Yes,” the Teryna chuckled, as her hand fell back to her side once more. “You were always fond of stories about heroes and princesses…”

“Ser Gilmore, Fergus, and I used to play ‘princess in the tower’ numerous times when we were children,” Ophelia said with a laugh as she glanced over the Knight. “And sometimes we added a dragon… or two.”

“That too,” Eleanor said, with a slight sadness appearing in her eyes. “I love you, my sweet girl.”

“I love you too, mother.”

Reaching to tuck a stray strand behind Ophelia’s ear, the Ternya sighed. “Oh, how I wish you and Fergus didn’t grow up so quickly! Soon, you will be running the castle with your father gone while your brother leaves tonight. Have you said your goodbyes yet?”

Ophelia shook her head. “Not yet. We were actually on our way there before running into you.”

“Then I won’t keep you any longer. We can speak later if you like,” Eleanor offered, before embracing her daughter. When she finally pulled away, the Teryna looked over Ophelia and smiled, before taking her leave. She watched as her mother walked away, before making her way to the bedroom chambers with both Ser Gilmore and Amadis following behind.

As they grew nearer, Ophelia could hear her nephew through the open doorway. His tiny voice bringing a smile to her face.

“Will you bring me back a sward?” Oren asked, his eyes widening as he looked up at his father.

Fergus chuckled, kneeling before his son. “It’s sword, Owen, and I will find you the mightiest one that I can find.”

“Promise, papa?” Oren asked in that small voice that Ophelia loved so much.

“I promise,” Fergus agreed, while gently grasping his son’s shoulders. “And here is my sweet sister, coming to see me off.” He grinned, as Fergus noticed Ophelia entering the room from the corner of his eye. “With Roderick at her side, no less!”

Ser Gilmore bowed in greeting to the young lord while offering a smile. “I am duty-bound to protect your sister, my lord, even if she doesn’t need it no more.”

The words pierced through Ophelia’s heart as she reflects back to their previous conversation. It is quite apparent that he was hurt by the news… something she now regrets ever bringing to light with him.

“Sister?” Oren asked, confused. “But that’s Auntie Ophelia!”

Ophelia chuckled as she mussed his hair. “I am both actually.”

“Hey!” her nephew cried out.

“Mother and Father had insisted that I come to say goodbye since it could be quite some time before I will see you again…” she said, coming to stand near her brother.

Before Fergus can speak, his wife, Oriana, interrupted whatever it is that he was about to say. “Ophelia! Don’t speak like that in front of Oren!”

Her brother frowned. “She didn’t mean anything by it, love.”

“Of course not!” Ophelia said, immediately trying to fix her poor choice of words. “I only meant that the journey to Ostagar is quite long, and depending on the weather, it could be months until he returns.”

Oriana’s solemn expression remained, as it appeared that she was not convinced. However, she said nothing more of the matter.

“Besides," Ophelia grinned, placing a delicate hand on his armored shoulder. "Nothing could ever harm Fergus. He's one of our best warriors—well second best.”

"Ha! It seems not even I can surpass my little sister’s prowess with a sword and shield!” Fergus laughed. "It is a shame you aren't coming with me, though. It's going to be quite tiresome killing all those darkspawn by myself."

"A woman fighting in battle?" Oriana asked, slightly surprised. "In Antiva, the very idea of that would be... unthinkable!”

"Really?" Fergus's mouth contorted into a grin. "I always heard that Antivian women were dangerous."

Oriana cracked a smile. "Only with kindness and poison, my sweet husband."

Fergus's eyes widen before he lets out a round of laughter. Turning to Ophelia, he motioned back towards his wife. "You hear that? And this is from the woman who serves me my tea!"

"Honestly, for putting up with you so much, I'm actually surprised she hasn't yet." Ophelia chuckled, earning a laugh from both.

"Poison papa?" Oren gaped, with eyes wide. "Don't do that!"

Oriana knelt beside him, smoothing down his coppery hair, gently quieting him. "We're only joking Oren," his mother reassured him in a soothing voice.

"Besides," Ophelia continued from before. "Father isn’t so keen on sending me off into battle, just yet.”

“Which would be best, might I add. You would be much safer here within the castle walls than taking arms against… darkspawn.” Fergus remarked, frowning at the thought.

Ophelia arched a brow in response to her brother’s words, all while folding her arms across her chest. “You know well enough that I could handle myself in battle, dear brother. Simply ask Roderick!”

She looked over towards the Knight, who had been silently standing off to the side during the entirety of their conversation. Ophelia saw that he wore a smile upon his face, one that matched his bright, blue eyes.

“I’m not typically one who takes sides between the two of you, but she does speak the truth,” Roderick agreed, his eyes meeting hers. “I pity any poor fool who meets your sister in battle.”

Ophelia smiled as she felt a rush of pride coarse through her body at hearing the words.

"Even so, I'm not looking forward to the journey since we're quite short on men," Fergus said, shaking his head. "I still can't believe that Arl Howe's men are delayed again! You would think they were marching backward or something."

Her smile faltered, remembering the conversation her father had with the Arl of Amaranthine. The periodic glances towards the doors and the disappointment with finding out that a Grey Warden was here at the castle. Ophelia felt deep within her bones that something was off about the entire thing. However, there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn’t as if she could accuse the Arl of treachery with no proof…

"It's a shame Duncan won't be riding out with you though,” Ophelia said, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “Being a Grey Warden, I imagine he would be of great use against the darkspawn."

"A grey warden?" Oren exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement. "Did he ride here on a griffin?"

"Shush, Oren." His mother chided. "Griffins only appear in stories now."

Fergus turned toward his sister. "I heard about there being a grey warden here, but I was never told why. Do you know?"

Ophelia nodded, her stomach knotting up as she glances over at Ser Gilmore. "Duncan has come here because he’s looking for recruits." She said, meeting her brother’s gaze. "Apparently, he has his eyes set upon Roderick."

Although she dared not to let it show, Fergus knew what to look for when something was amiss with his little sister. Even now, he saw as her demeanor changed in front of him. Although the two of them grew up together with Ser Gilmore. It was Ophelia who held the closest relationship with the Knight—as they spent countless days around each other.

She watched as her brother’s gaze shifted toward her friend. "Roderick is a good man and capable of holding his own in a fight," Fergus said, with a sad smile. "It is no surprise that Duncan would consider having him within his ranks."

“I appreciate the kind words, my lord,” Ser Gilmore said with a smile that no longer reached his eyes. “If I am to join the ranks of the Wardens, then let it be known that it has been an honor to be in the service of such a noble family.”

With a tight smile, Ophelia nodded in agreement. An unbearable silence has fallen upon them before the sound of Fergus clearing his throat echoing throughout the room. "Anyways," He continued, offering her a grin. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze my arse off in the southern rains. I will be quite jealous of you being here at the castle, little sister, all warm and safe."

"Don’t forget there’s better food here as well,” Ophelia remarked, cracking a smile.

Oriana let out a breath. "I'm so glad to hear you will be so miserable, my love."

Fergus chuckled. "I was only kidding." Letting out a deep breath, he looks over at the four of them. "Well, I should probably head out then. The darkspawn aren't going to kill themselves—although I wouldn’t lose sleep if they did.”

Oriana wrinkled her petite nose. "Fergus!"

Her brother opened his mouth but was instead interrupted by a voice coming from the doorway. "Good, you haven't left yet!"

They all turned to look where the voice had come from as both, Teyrn and Teyrna stride in together. "Actually, I was just about to,” Fergus said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eleanor Cousland frowned as she pulled her son into an embrace. "Be well, my son." She said with such gentleness. "I will pray to the Maker for your safety, every day that you are gone."

"Thank you, Mother." He responded, the octane of his voice so low that Ophelia could barely hear his words. "You know well enough that no darkspawn can best me."

Stepping away from Fergus, she wiped away the treacherous tear that had escaped and made its way down her cheek. Afterward, Bryce Cousland stepped forward, embracing his son in his arms.

"Stay safe out there, my boy," The Teryn said, clasping his son's shoulder with a solemn smile spread across his face. "Both Howe, and I will see you in Ostagar.”

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all," Oriana spoke in prayer. "Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it!" Fergus bellowed with a laugh.

Ophelia remembered how he never was one to like overly serious or ominous moments like these. It was something that she was thankful that stayed with him even after spending years preparing to become the next Teryn.

"Fergus!" Oriana scolded, shooting him a glare. "You would really say that in front of your mother?"

Fergus offered his wife a sheepish smile. "Err... for the other soldiers, I mean. I don't need any wenches since I have you, my love."

"What's a wench?" Oren asked, innocently. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

"No, my dear boy," Bryce chuckled, as he knelt beside the child. "A wench is a woman who pours the ale in a tavern." He then lowered his voice. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Eleanor exclaimed while stifling a laugh. "Maker's breath! It's like living with a pair of small boys. Thankfully I have a daughter who actually acts with decency."

A knowing look is exchanged between the two siblings, as Fergus is trying his best to suppress a laugh. “I will miss you, Mother, dear,” he managed after clearing his throat. “I’m sure Ophelia will take good care of you while father and I are gone. Isn’t that right, little sister?”

Ophelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, not wanting to risk a scolding from their parents due to such childlike behavior. "Maker knows that Mother can handle herself. Always has.”

"That's true," Fergus said, with a smile upon his face. "Perhaps they should be sending her to Ostagar instead of me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the deep roads.”

"Well, I'm glad you find this so funny." Eleanor retorted.

"Enough, enough," Bryce chuckled, touching his wife's shoulder before glancing over to Ophelia. "If you haven't already, say your goodbyes, pup. You’ll want to get an early night’s rest since there will be much to do on the morrow.”

Ophelia nodded before walking over to Fergus and throwing her arms around him in an embrace. "Goodbye, dear brother." She said, trying to restrain the tears that threaten to come. "Fight well, and I will see you on your return.”

"Goodbye, little sister." He said, returning the gesture. “Do stay out of trouble, won’t you?”

Ophelia cracked a smile. “Anything for you, dear brother.”

Wishing the others good night, she turned on her heel with Ser Gilmore and Amadis following behind. Ophelia could hear her father strike up a conversation once more with her brother, as she began to head down the corridor toward her bed-chamber.

“Are you okay, Ophelia?” Roderick asked while he kept pace beside her. “Saying goodbye couldn’t be easy for you, especially since your brother had just returned.”

She quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “No, but I will be. The upcoming months will be enduring, but it will keep my mind preoccupied. However, I must face them as a Teryn’s daughter and not as some weakminded child.”

“Just because you fear for their safety, doesn’t make you weak,” Ser Gilmore reminded her. “It makes you human, Ophelia. They are your family, after all.”

Ophelia let out a breath. “You’re right, of course, but you must remember that I am also a woman—some will already think I am not fit simply because of that fact. I must prove them wrong, Roderick. I must.”

“Of course, I’m sure you will do what you think is best for your people and for Highever,” Ser Gilmore said. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

Reaching her chambers, Ophelia looked up at the Knight—who was also her dearest friend and smiled. “Thank you, Roderick. It will make the couple months all the more bearable, after hearing those words. Goodnight, Roderick.”

“Goodnight, Ophelia,” he answered. “I will see you come morning.”

Ser Gilmore watched as Ophelia disappeared inside her room, along with her mabari hound. Taking his leave, he finally felt as his heart steadied its pace as it had quickened while being near the Teryn’s daughter as it often did. The Knight didn’t like to think much of it, but deep down, he knew his feelings towards her grew with every passing day to the point that it was almost unbearable. Not to mention the thought of being recruited into the Grey Warden ranks didn’t sit well with him either. He couldn’t comprehend the possibility of going a day without seeing her beauty. Perhaps tomorrow he will finally speak to her of the matter? Because the truth was… he loved her.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age fic #your light will terrify the dark #usermacy #queennymeria #chuckhansen #oc: ophelia cousland #mine*#fic*#writings*#there's A LOT going on in this chapter...#but i'm actually happy with how it turned out??#ESPECIALLY THE ENDING #ALKFSJFSKJFKS #also yes... i used a got reference in the title #SO WHAT?!?!?!#ANYWAY!! HERE YOU GO!!

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