#haron and orinna

[lostinquisitor]

idk what ameridan would be doing in a modern verse but i know he DOES have those fear/deceit knuckle tats and i know that haron is a hozieresque singer probably

[magebastard]

when you finish jaws of hakkon in the middle of your inquisition run and ameridan and telana and orinna and the spirit companion and haron just. clenches fist. haunt the narrative

[ameridan-ghilain]

Oh yes by all my insane posting I am meaning that I'm currently writing, what is essentially, word vomit fic of Ameridan coming to terms with the modern world and his place in the new inquisition. I've already made myself cry which is fine. And also yes he's in some sort of weird fucked up polycule thing no I won't be explaining it. Telana was basically his wife but also he and kordillus loved each other. What about orinna and haron? Idk probably them too sometimes. Don't worry about it. He's got a long way to go though cause at some point he might realize his boyfriend was actually like. An insane emperor who conquered and killed and for why. But anyway that's a later Ameridan problem, for now he's just being insane and bisexual and sad!!!

[mako-designated-driver]

Day #13: At What Cost

It still tastes strange. No matter.

Several water-stained pages follow before the text resumes:

Have we traveled through lands more remote than these? We must have. Yet I've never felt so removed from life back home as I do now.

T. makes the same arguments as always, though adds a lack of demons as a point in her favor. Lack isn't absence—which I was quick to point out. She called me pithy. There are demons here, though not as many as we faced in those early years together. The Avvar have their mages too. The last were ill prepared for me. I wonder if that's the part that bothers her?

O., as always, was no help at all.

We push on. My head aches. The others are singing the song we learned at that lakeside town. I forget the name of the place. I think my eyes are about to explode. Of course, A. has noticed and tells the others he needs to read something. It's quiet now. The journey here took longer than expected. I must take stock of the rations. After sleep.

There were more than expected. Everything has been more than expected. A few moments later, and O. would not be standing here. I was able to subdue the mage before things became worse. T. said nothing about it afterwards. She knows O. would have died.

"At what cost?" T. asked me that once. I said it costs nothing, but I don't know. I met a man who'd fought longer than I, but his mind had faded with age, and he could not answer. The point remains that I can do more. I can be more effective. We've all seen the demons, what they did. We've seen what some would do with blood. The better question is, who pays the cost if no one takes this chance?

And no one said it has to be forever. Just until things are settled.

"If you count eight times, will the number change?" O. asks. She's been watching me these last few days, whatever she says to the contrary. Damned blue bottles. I did not plan this journey as well as I should.

I lay trying to find constellations through the leaves. T. brought me some water. She just smiled, and there was no admonishment behind it. It made me feel somewhat better. As always, A. cooked our dinner while deriding my own ability to produce something edible. O. attempts to tell jokes—Maker, they're pathetic. Why do they make me laugh anyway?

Long days behind. I fear there are fewer ahead. Whatever costs I've paid, they will be worth it. It doesn't matter. This night—safe beside a fire, the three of them singing that stupid song... I am content.

(A: Inquisitor Ameridan; T: Telana, Ameridan's mage lover; O: Orinna, Ameridan's dwarven warrior companion; The entry is written by Haron, a templar)

[dragon-age-codex-entries]

Codex entry: Pages near an Old Campfire

An ancient fire has pages from an old book torn next to it, likely used for kindling. The ice has kept a few pages legible:

“Haron and Orinna drew the Avvar away, but when Telana and I breached the Tevinter frost-ward and entered the fortress, we found to our chagrin that this is their main base. Their mastery of ice magic allowed them to slip through the ward without melting it. Instead of luring the dragon into a trap of our making, we have had a brutal fight in the home of our foes.

The dragon's power is like none I have ever seen. Possessed by this Avvar god-spirit, it rivals the legendary Archdemon Dumat in its fury. I pray the legends of another Archdemon leading the Blight in the Anderfels are just foolish stories, but if they are true, then I understand why Emperor Drakon asked me to come here. Drakon's new "Orlais" cannot face two god-dragons at once.

Telana was injured in the last battle. She says that she can still fight, but she is limping badly, even after our healing magicks. Once we are warm again, I will send her back to the surface. The spell that will seal away the dragon offers little chance for escape, and in her current state, she cannot hope to outrun the magic. With luck, she will reach Orinna and Haron, and they can get back to civilization and bring reinforcements.”

[jawsofhakkontranscript]

Worthy of Publication

Side quest: Worthy of Publication

Characters involved: Colette

Kenric's research assistant, Colette, left to survey Tevinter ruins. Her findings could offer historical insight into the Basin's past.

Part 1: Find Colette.

(Colette went to investigate the Tevinter ruins. She can be found in Swamp Kuldsdotten.)

Part 2: Rescue Colette

(Colette has been ambushed by a group of lurkers.)

Party comments:

Cassandra: Over there. We must do something.

Iron Bull: Over there. She's not fighting those off alone.

Cole: Over there. Can we help?

Sera: Over there. She needs help.

Blackwall: Over there. She'll be overwhelmed.

Varric: Over there. She'll be overwhelmed.

Colette: Maker—ahh!

(Defeat the lurkers.)

Part 3: Speak with Colette.

Colette: Inquisitor. Still finding it difficult to breathe. But I'm not strewn across the landscape, so thank you. I'm Colette. Professor Kenric's research assistant. I was hoping to conduct a survey of a Tevinter ruin in the hills. I may not have chosen the best route… [1]

[1] Dialogue options:

Investigate: You study with Kenric? [2]

General: Tell me about the ruin. [3]

General: Goodbye. [4]

[2] Investigate: You study with Kenric?

PC: You're Kenric's research assistant, so that makes you a student at the University of Orlais?

Colette: It does. Why? [5]

[5] Subsequent dialogue options:

General: You’re an elf. [6]

General: I didn’t mean to offend. [7]

General: Forget I asked. [8]

[6] General: You’re an elf.

PC: Orlesian institutions aren't always... accepting of elves.

Colette: So the side glances and loud whispers remind me. The University accepts those worthy of admission. Though elven students are few. [Go to 9 or back to 1]

[7] General: I didn’t mean to offend.

PC: If I've said something wrong...

Colette: I'm sorry. That's usually asked with skepticism. The University accepts those worthy of admission. Though elven students are few. [Go to 9 or back to 1]

[8] General: Forget I asked.

PC: It was only a question.

Colette: I'm sorry. That's usually asked with skepticism. The University accepts those worthy of admission. Though elven students are few. [Go to 9 or back to 1]

[9] Special: Do you like it?

PC: How do you find it there?

Colette: It's not easy, but this is what I want. And I like working for Professor Kenric. Elven research students... where publication's concerned, their work's often deemed "not substantial enough for formal credit." But Kenric cares about people who want to learn. If our research finds an audience, I know my name will be included. [Back to 1]

[3] General: Tell me about the ruin.

PC: What were you hoping to find at the ruin?

Colette: The Tevinters' time here was brief, but their architecture endured, offering shelter, forming landmarks. Ancient Avvar would have encountered these structures, which certainly predate Inquisitor Ameridan. Evaluating the ruins could offer insight into the region's history—once I can get set up.

PC: You're still going there?

Colette: I've read everything we have on Ameridan, and studied up on new excavation techniques. I won't waste this opportunity. If you've a map, I can show you my destination. If you'd be interested in the findings. [Back to 1]

[4] General: Goodbye.

PC: Stay safe.

Colette: I will. [Exits the conversation]

Part 4: Meet Colette at the Tevinter ruins.

(Approach the old Tevinter ruin, Nigel's Point)

Party comments:

Cassandra: This must be the place Kenric's assistant was trying to reach.

Solas: This must be where Kenric's assistant came to study.

Blackwall: This must be where Colette wanted to study.

Iron Bull: Is this where Kenric's assistant was headed?

Dorian: This must be where Colette wished to study.

Vivienne: I believe this was Colette's destination.

Varric: Was this what Colette was trying to reach?

(Dorian has a unique comment about each Tevinter ruin. Here’s what he has to say about Nigel’s Point)

Dorian: The ancient Imperium did like to leave a mark. I wonder how long they stayed?

(Find Collette.)

Colette: Inquisitor! You may want to see this.

(Interact with Colette.)

Colette: Inquisitor! I was going to send word. I've found something. This inscription—almost completely faded, but: "Two stood. Felled sixty true before our triumph." "A breath in the hunt and let rest the lowlanders, worthy of the Lady's care." The markings and surrounding artifacts date to Ameridan's time. The references and script suggest Avvar.

Dialogue options:

General: Let's speak another time. [9]

General: Go on. [10]

[9] General: Let's speak another time.

PC: Another time, Colette.

Colette: Oh. Yes, Inquisitor. [Exits the conversation.]

[10] General: Go on.

PC: What’s your theory?

Colette: I need to complete a full survey and have Professor Kenric evaluate the site himself… But this may be a tribute to Haron and Orinna, Inquisitor Ameridan's companions. [11]

[11] Subsequent dialogue options:

Investigate: How do you know it's them? [12]

Investigate: What happened here? [13]

Investigate: Tell me about Haron. [14]

Investigate: Tell me about Orinna. [15]

Investigate: What will you do now? [16]

General: Goodbye. [17]

[12] Investigate: How do you know it's them?

PC: What makes you think the inscription refers to Haron and Orinna?

Colette: It's only a theory, but the age of the markings and surrounding artifacts match the timeline we've established for Ameridan. I've found glass fragments in the clay, several with slight veins of discoloration. Blue—like templar artifacts.

PC: Templars?

Colette: The templars were a new order in Ameridan's time. Given their small numbers then, few would be found outside the Chantry's reach. It's unusual to find one deep in uncharted territory. Unless he traveled here for a purpose—as Haron would have. [Go to 18 or back to 11]

[18] Special: What about Ameridan himself?

PC: You don't think the inscription could refer to Ameridan himself?

Colette: It's possible... but Ameridan would have been recognized as a leader, which the inscription might have noted out of respect. And "a breath in the hunt." Why note that your hunt continues unless your remaining prey was someone important? [Back to 11]

[13] Investigate: What happened here?

PC: What happened here?

Colette: An encounter with ancient Avvar—and not a friendly one. Ameridan and his companions were outnumbered in an unfamiliar place. If Ameridan's not here, perhaps someone bought him the time needed to keep going? [Go to 19 or back to 11]

[19] Special: The Avvar paid respect.

PC: If this is the resting place of Haron and Orinna, it only remains because the Avvar took time to honor them.

Colette: Respect for a worthy adversary? It wouldn't be out of place. [Back to 11]

[14] Investigate: Tell me about Haron.

PC: What do you know about Haron?

Colette: When the Templar Order was first formed, Ser Haron was among its members. He's arguably the most famous of the original templars, though he was never one of their leaders. He's better known as one of Inquisitor Ameridan's confidants. They'd known each other since youth. [Go to 20 or back to 11]

[20] Special: Friends, then.

PC: So they were close. Friends.

Colette: When Ameridan was made Inquisitor, Haron's position in his inner circle was assumed. A few ballads about them survive. The type with adventures and happy endings. I don't know if they're true. They remind me of my brothers, though. [Back to 11]

[15] Investigate: Tell me about Orinna.

PC: What can you tell me about Orinna?

Colette: Orinna was an alchemist in Orzammar. It's said she met Ameridan while dealing with a demon—but it's not known why Ameridan was there. Demons aren't common in the Deep Roads, but they were a problem for the Inquisition at the time. Orinna knew she could help, so she joined Ameridan. [Go to 21 or back to 11]

[21] Special: Was she exiled?

PC: If she left Orzammar, that would make her a surfacer.

Colette: She "turned her back on the stone," though it's said she had few regrets. Some claim she was actually from one of Orzammar's noble families, but who can say? She never used her last name on the surface and, once exiled, the family likely struck her name from personal documents. Professor Kenric petitioned Orzammar's Shaperate to grant him access to their records, but the request was turned down. [Back to 11]

[16] Investigate: What will you do now?

PC: What will you do with this information?

Colette: Professor Kenric will expect detailed notes on the location, stone and clay samples, and any trace artifacts I can find. If Ameridan's history is compiled, this could be worth an entire chapter. (Gasps.) I might get credit on the inside cover!

[17] General: Goodbye.

PC: Thank you, Colette.

Colette: Inquisitor. [Exits the conversation]

[modwyr]

catch me getting attached to characters who died 800 years before the main series begins

[wardenscall]

The Past and Present

We are the Inquisition

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Bro your takes on Jaws of Hakkon is GALAXY BRAIN. My favorite part of the DLC, and you touched on this a bit, is when your Inquisitor learns about Ameridan. Ameridan mirrors the Inquisitor in journey, in title, possibly in heritage, but most shockingly in his companions. You learn about how he came to the Frostback basin with two of his closest friends and the love of his life, just like MY Inquisitor did. They were all ready for one last adventure, just like my Inquisitor and co. Ameridan mentions worrying about them, he talks about how his friends would bicker and poke fun and he loved them for it, just like the Inquisitor and their friends. AND THEN, the Inquisitor finds the spirit who was with Telana when she died waiting, possibly with their own lover, listening to how she died waiting for Ameridan because she believed in him and loved him so much. AND THEN NOT ONLY DOES AMERIDAN'S FATE MIRROR THE INQUISITOR'S, his FRIENDS and THEIR FATES mirror the Inquisitor's friends'. Ameridan's friends Haron and Orinna died making a final stand so that Ameridan could finish off the dragon. Deep down, the Inquisitor knows that their friends would do the same, and may already have once if the Inquisitor was sent to the bad future with Dorian. Telana died, alone and bleeding, refusing to give up on the person she loved more than anything, her feelings so strong that a spirit took up her vigil when Telana finally passed. Would the Inquisitor's lover suffer a similar fate, should anything happen to them? Ameridan and his companions died, apart from each other, in one final quest. I think it's so beautiful, and tragic, and would just invoke the most raw emotions in the Inquisitor who would do anything for the people right beside them.

Omg YES you totally get it! The tragedy of the companions and how that's framed in this dlc is SO painful.

The appeal of dragon age, for me, is largely based around the companions who we get to form bonds with and who are all very well developed, flawed people. And so it just hits so hard to have that mirror, you're completely correct.

My one wish for this DLC actually builds on this, and that is I wish your love interest had more to say about Telana. In my eyes it could really do with a final scene where you get to chat to your love interest about everything that just happened; or even have it so that when you find the memory of Inquisitor Ameridan on the island about Telana, your love interest is always the one who comments and always says something about their own personal identification with Telana.

Thank you for the ask! And your thoughts! They are so good!

[skyheld]

ameridan obviously was going to die of old age but someone stopped it and now here we are. there are three ways it ends.

he can lead the disctration team on tearstone island. he's an old commander with decades of experience fighting darkspawn and has a god of war on his side, so he's a very natural choice. hakkon will climb out of that pit, but ameridan won't.

hakkon reflects the world and people around him. if he's treated with fairness and trusted more than he deserves, and if he sees those around him treat others with it, he'll earn that trust and leave peacefully once the gods are defeated, leaving time for final goodbyes.

if he's treated with mistrust, or if he sees those around him act dishonourably, maybe he won't. we just don't know :)

however it happens, ameridan wants a quiet funeral with no mention of gods or afterlife, but apart from that he'll leave it up to his loved ones to decide what happens.

after that, he has plans. while he wanted the din'an hanin for himself and telana, its not that well hidden and he doesn’t want to give scavengers another reason to disturb its peace, nor to take his wife’s remains so far from orinna’s. she was buried beneath a tree in the frostback basin, close to where orinna and haron are likely buried, in a location only known to ameridan, svarah sun-hair, and gyda myrdotten, and that will be his resting place too. the keeper of the clan he stays with before hakkon, so either clan ghilain or lavellan, is entrusted with the information that the basin is where they’ll need to send him, and they’ll make sure the proper rites are followed. he'll be burnt. there will be nothing left for future historians and treasure-hunters to find. there will be no marker.

the inquisitor may be told about all or some of this, but it depends on their relationship. it’s not only a matter of trust but also who needs to be burdened with this secret. if he lives with their clan they'll likely know most of it; dhavi and asharen will definitely know. and of course if he's in a relationship, they'll know and also have some say in what happens. they get some keepsakes to remember him by before the rest burns.

[wyvernscales]

Similarities in the Inquisitions

Has anyone brought up the fact that the if the Inquisitor is an Elven woman (especially if she is a mage or romances Solas), the modern Inquisition is a gender inversion of the Inquisition of old? Italics are conditional

Ameridan/Inquisitor: Dalish elves who are mages, worship the Elven gods, and fell in love with Solas/Telana. Later in life they become Chantry symbols and part of an organization dedicated to defeating a would-be god and dragon that acts as a vessel for said being. 

Solas/Telana: both elven dreamers who are powerful mages and spent significant time in the Fade and befriending spirits. The Inquisitor’s lover

Cassandra/Haron: Seeker/Templar warriors, quarreled often due to perceived slacking off with Orinna/Varric.

Orinna/Varric: Surface dwarves with strong family connections to Orzammar and disrupted arranged marriages. Fights with Cassandra/Haron, but does care about them regardless.

What does any of this mean? It is hard to say. I’m not certain if any of it bodes well for the Inquisitor though. I did notice something... curious however. There is a codex entry named The Hunt of the Fell Wolf which describes how Haron and Ameridan hunt a powerful possessed wolf. Ameridan slays its physical form, and Haron finds an “idol of Fade-touched stone | that could prove the monster’s doom”. Which is something that connects it to the spirit. While I don’t like connecting any and everything back to Solas, the similarities are there. And Solas obtains the red lyrium idol in Tevinter Nights.

[lostinquisitor]

he doesn’t remember very much about the person, but he can tell you in fair detail about the skirmish it happened in. why they were there, what led to the conflict, what the weather was like, etc. he did struggle afterwards — not with guilt exactly, he was a trained soldier (or at least IN training by then), but the adrenaline rush and resulting crash out were new experiences. he tends to remember the abominations and mages he’s hunted better than other opponents.

telana was a child. her magic came in like a high tide, and she unintentionally killed someone in their sleep. when she’d realized what she’d done, that somehow her nightmare had bearing in the real world, she packed up her little brother and migrated to the dales. young mages had a choice between tevinter or the dirth in those days, and young elves didn’t get to choose tevinter.

ameridan was probably in his late teens or very early twenties for his first kill

[ourdawncomes]

If I must go to the end of Thedas itself for Drakon, I am at least glad to have friends at my side. Telana and Haron have been arguing about Haron using the lyrium to fight demons. Some things never change. Orinna has a new alchemical trick she wants to try. Like pitch or tar, but stronger. A recipe straight from Orzammar. They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly... and I would be lost without them.

if you’re in the party with thora when you find this memory of ameridan then i’m sorry but you will be invited into a group hug b/c it made thora feel things about her friends

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Nothing Is Inevitable

Chapter 54 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris and the crew wind down after killing the Avvar dragon by listening to Ameridan’s memories which are super lighthearted and not at all heartbreaking, and Fenris and Rynne have a Talk™. 

Only an excerpt is here; read the whole thing here on AO3 (~9200 words).

*******************

Ameridan’s memories floated out of the flask and separated into five globes of light. Fenris glanced nervously at Hawke. “Shall I just, er…” He gestured vaguely at the memories.

She shrugged. “It worked for your memories in the Fade. Hopefully it’ll work with these.”

He nodded, then reached at random for one of the memories. The memory flared briefly, and Ameridan’s mellow voice echoed through the air. 

“I dislike being so far from home,” the voice said. “Halamshiral needs me. The darkspawn have grown stronger. Some of my brothers would let those creatures destroy Orlais; they think Drakon no better than the Imperium. But if we do not stand with the humans against the darkspawn, we might lose everything we have gained. I will fight this Avvar-dragon for you, Drakon… and then we shall drive back the darkspawn together.”

Varric sighed. “Shit. This, uh, explains a lot.”

Dorian grimaced. “Yes, quite. If the elves had helped Orlais during the Second Blight, Orlais might not have turned on them later.”

“Hang on,” Hawke protested. “It’s not the elves’ fault that Orlais burst in and stole their land from them.”

“I’m not saying it’s their fault,” Dorian said in surprise. “I’m simply making an if-then statement.”

“But…” Hawke stopped, then sighed. “No no, I see what you’re saying. Ugh, what an utter shitshow.”

“Agreed,” Fenris said quietly. If Ameridan had succeeded at killing the Avvar dragon and gone back to the Dales, and if the Dalish elves of old had joined Orlais in battling the darkspawn, then maybe the Exalted March on the Dales would never have happened. 

Imagine if that were the case, Fenris thought. Imagine what Thedas would be like now if the Dales still belonged to the elves. An independent nation of elves, allied with Orlais, who were in charge of their own destinies… 

Or maybe it wouldn’t be like that at all. Maybe after Ameridan and Drakon died, some other excuse would have arisen for an Exalted March, and the Dales would have been taken from the elves anyway.

Blackwall broke through his melancholy musings. “The Jaws of Hakkon failed to destroy the lowlands, but their dragon did lead to the end of the elves.”

“Yeah,” Varric said softly. “That’s probably the fairest way to put it.”

Hawke smiled at him. “That’s how you should put it in your book.”

Varric smiled faintly back at her. She squeezed Fenris’s hand and tilted her head at the memories. “On to the next?”

He nodded, then reached for the next memory. This time, Ameridan’s voice was wry with humour. “If I must go to the end of Thedas itself for Drakon, I am at least glad to have friends at my side. Telana and Haron have been arguing about Haron using the lyrium to fight demons. Some things never change.” Ameridan chuckled softly before going on. “Orinna has a new alchemical trick she wants to try, like pitch or tar but stronger: a recipe straight from Orzammar. They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly… and I would be lost without them.”

The voice trailed away, and they were all silent for a moment. Dorian cleared his throat. “I wonder what that’s like?”

Blackwall harrumphed, and Bull pulled Dorian against his side while Sera scoffed. “What d’you mean by that crack?” she demanded. 

“I jest, of course,” Dorian said hastily. “I’m moderately fond of you all, despite your lack of proper hygiene.”

Varric smirked and shook his head, and Hawke flicked the cap of a flask at Dorian’s head. Then Cole spoke up. “They were happy, then dead. But this is still here.”

They all fell quiet again. Hawke looped her arm around Cole’s shoulders and hugged Fenris’s arm. “Well, we’re not dead,” she announced. “Nobody’s dying anytime soon, so we’re all going to keep having a good time, right?” 

Her voice was bright and cheerful, and her grip on Fenris’s arm was hard. He squeezed her hand as Blackwall replied. “That’s right,” he said gruffly. “Let us hope we fare better than they did.”

“We will,” Hawke said firmly. “We already have. Go on, Fenris, let’s hear the next one.”

He reached for the third memory, and once again, Ameridan spoke to them through the glowing globe of light. “I prepare now for my final battle against this dragon of the Avvar. I offer thanks to Ghilan’nain, halla-mother, and to Andraste, Maker-bride. As you were raised up from mortal men to stand with our creators, our makers, so raise me up now to defend this world.”

Fenris’s eyes widened. “Ameridan worshipped the elven gods and the Maker,” he said. He looked at Hawke. “I had wondered about this – why he said he would see Telana at the Maker’s side. He was Andrastian, at least in part.”

She made a little face. “That would have been a pain, though, don’t you think? Trying to reconcile two sets of wildly different religions? Why bother?”

“Belief is a funny thing,” Varric said philosophically. “Besides, an elven Inquisitor must have had a careful path to walk.” He glanced at Fenris ruefully. “Still does, I guess.”

“There is that,” Fenris agreed. He himself had never publicly revealed his religious uncertainty for concern that it would obstruct the Inquisition’s goals. 

Cole spoke again, this time through Ameridan’s voice. “‘They’re not so different, Drakon. Just another pair of boots to walk the same road.’ He doesn’t see, wants it simple, but I can help him get there. There’s room for both.”

“Oh,” Hawke said softly. “That’s… kind of nice, actually. Making room for both…” She looked around at their companions. “Ameridan was a pretty inclusive sort of fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Sounds like,” Sera agreed. “Elfy-elves aren’t like that these days.” 

Fenris twisted his lips ruefully. “They aren’t, no. If Ameridan had survived, lived to maintain the alliance with Orlais…” He trailed off before he could continue the thought. The path of what-ifs regarding Ameridan’s survival could only lead them to a very depressing place. 

Hawke sighed quietly and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. “Are you all right?” he murmured. 

“Of course,” she said. “Just tired, that’s all. Should we hear the next one?”

He nodded and activated the fourth memory.

“We have a plan,” Ameridan said. “Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. Telana believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it.” He sighed, and even through the echo of memory, Fenris could hear the bone-deep weariness in his voice. “It is less clear whether I can do so without sealing myself in as well, but I have little choice. This beast will wreak devastation across Orlais unless we can stop it now.”

Dorian shook his head sadly. “This still boggles my mind,” he said. “Ameridan saved all of Orlais from the Avvar, and no one ever knew.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “People-people don’t do things so you know them. Good on ‘im.”

“She’s right,” Blackwall said. “Heroism shouldn’t be about fame. It’s about doing what’s needed, no matter the cost.”

At Blackwall’s words, Fenris’s stomach twisted guiltily. Blackwall had a point; some tasks needed to be done, no matter the cost. Killing Corypheus had been one of them, and killing this possessed dragon had been another. It was selfish of Fenris to wish that those necessary tasks weren’t his responsibility. They needed to be done by someone, and that bottom line should trump everything else. 

But why does that someone always have to be me? he thought resentfully. As Ameridan had said before, demons and dragons were one thing; politics and posturing was something else altogether. Every political problem, every feud, every territorial dispute: was it truly necessary for Fenris to be consulted for everything? 

Dorian, meanwhile, raised his eyebrows at Blackwall and Sera. “I didn’t mean– of course Ameridan didn’t do it for the heroism. It’s just… a shame, that’s all.” He eyed them incredulously. “Come now, you two can’t really not care if you’re forgotten from history. Don’t you want to feel that you, you know, participated in everything that’s happened here?”

Cole answered for them. “It doesn’t matter that no one remembers,” he said. “What matters is that they helped.”

Hawke wilted. “But if that’s all that matters, then why are we here listening to these memories?” she said plaintively. “Why are we getting all mopey over a bunch of people that we never met if their stories don’t matter?”

Fenris glanced worriedly at her, and she laughed lightly. “Not me, of course. I’m not moping. But I can see that tear in your eye, Bull.”

Bull chuckled. “Whatever you say, little Hawke.”

She grinned at him, but her smile faded quickly. “Seriously though,” she said. “This isn’t – nothing we do is for the recognition. That doesn’t mean you want to just be forgotten. Even you two,” she said to Blackwall and Sera. “Whether you care or not, you’re not getting forgotten in any of this.”

Sera wrinkled her nose and shrugged. Then Varric shrugged as well. “It is a damn fine story,” he said. “Shame nobody found it until now.”

“It is a shame,” Fenris agreed. He reached for the fifth and final memory. 

Ameridan’s voice echoed through the frosty air. “Telana, my love,” he said softly.

Hawke’s fingers tensed against Fenris’s arm as Ameridan went on. “I should not have asked you to come with me, though I know you would not have stayed behind. You are a Dreamer, and this dragon the Avvar have tamed carries a demon inside it. I can see how its presence hurts you. You should be at Halamshiral reminding our people of our alliance with Drakon. Not here, risking death again with me.” He sighed. “Still, in the old tongue, your name ‘Telanadas’ means ‘nothing is inevitable’. I will remember your name and hope.” 

For the final time, Ameridan’s voice faded away. For a long, frozen moment, they all sat in a subdued silence, and Fenris could hear Hawke breathing shallowly beside him. 

Nothing is inevitable. The meaning of Telana’s name hung in the air like a chilling fog that sank straight down to his bones. Ameridan had thought of Telana’s name as a sign of hope, a sign that even terrible things could be stopped and avoided. But Fenris couldn’t ignore the ugly irony of what had ultimately befallen them.

The thing Ameridan had tried so hard to avoid – his wife’s death – was the very thing he had not been able to prevent. 

Cole broke the heavy silence. “Too bright, blinding, breaking, broken. ‘Get to safety. I will seal us both away. It’s not forever. Come back with aid.’ But her leg was broken. She could only lie down and try to see him one last time.”

Varric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw, kid.”

Hawke suddenly hid her face against Fenris’s arm. He turned toward her and stroked the nape of her neck. “Hawke…”

She shook her head and pressed her face into his neck and shoulder, and Fenris could feel the dampness of her tears on his skin. 

He swallowed hard and clasped the back of her neck. Across from them, Sera sniffled wetly, and Blackwall put his arm around her. “Come now, girl,” he said kindly. “They’re together now, like Ameridan said.”

Sera scoffed and rubbed her nose. “Not crying about that, silly. Just something in my eye.” 

Hawke took a deep breath, then lifted her face from Fenris’s shoulder. “Me too,” she said thickly. “Allergies or something, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sera said gruffly. 

Hawke smiled at her. “You know what’s good for allergies?”

Sera leapt to her feet. “Punch!” she exclaimed.

“You’ve got it,” Hawke said cheerfully. “Come on, back to Stone-Bear Hold so I can mix up some punch.” She braced her hand on Fenris’s knee and started pushing herself upright. 

He hastily took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Be careful, Hawke,” he warned. “Your mana…”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Taking it easy, no magic for the rest of the night.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If you want to carry me back to Stone-Bear Hold, that might help me recover faster.” 

“I could, if you need me to,” he said.

She grinned wickedly, and Varric shook his head. “You should know better than to offer to carry her,” he said dryly.

 “Hush, Varric, you’ll ruin it,” Hawke scolded. She gave Fenris a winsome smile. “Oh please, most handsome elf in Thedas, will you carry me?”

Fenris huffed in amusement and pinched her waist. “Only if you need me to. It is not my job to transport you across Thedas. I’m not a nuggalope.”

“You’re right, you’re not,” she said promptly. “I’d much rather ride you than a nuggalope.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth. Blackwall and Bull snorted, and Sera cackled loudly while Dorian rolled his eyes. 

Varric shot Fenris a knowing look. “You walked right into that one, you know.”

“I know,” he said ruefully. “I regretted it the moment I said it.” He placed a solicitous hand at the center of Hawke’s back. “Come on, back to the settlement.”

Read the rest on AO3.

[roseategales]

OH, SWEET MEMORY 

summary: a brief study into my lavellan's thoughts after the events of the jaws of hakkon. rating: t for teen categories: mild angst, one-shot pairing: solavellan content warnings: mentions of alcohol. word count: 694 alternate link: ao3 author's note: 1/10/2019: so. i wrote this fic and let your love be several months ago, when i just finished the game and was super excited and i had to write because what else would i do with a grieving heart over this awesome and terrible ship y’know however, the result of that and my subsequent obsession with this game series meant that i would further develop the lavellan in this fic, to the point that she is quite different from what you’re reading in these two first fics for her. the essence of her character is there, but she is different. i may rewrite these two fics to reflect that one day, but for now, please bear that in mind when reading.

Night spreads across the Frostback Basin, lulling the land’s sounds to rest and quieting its vibrant colours, with sleep well on its way to touch its inhabitants. It won’t be long until the day fades from the minds of people and becomes replaced by dreams. Perhaps an hour. Perhaps two. But for now, celebrations occur and continue all along verdant fields and sweeping mountaintops, roaring in contrast to their surroundings, to keep memories awake as well as the eyes that behold them.

Off in the distance, Eludysia can hear the camp doing just that. A pyre sparks like a jewel in the dark, laughter rising thick as smoke in the air. She can hear Bull giving a toast for the dragon slayed. His “ANAAAAAN!” is the loudest among a dozen voices, even Sera’s and Dorian’s. And as the cheers descend into conversation, the three are quick to trade light-hearted, drunken insults and boasts after, as they often do. She thinks she can make out Scout Harding’s awkward murmuring jokes joining, too.

Temptation wants to lead the Inquisitor to them. But she turns her face to the wind and gazes up at the stars, settling her back against the trunk of a tree, a breath held from the past few days finally leaving her lips. Her mind wanders to the ruins found and the wisps of life cradled within them. The old Hakkonites, Hakkon himself. Ameriden and his love, Telena. The companions Haron and Orinna, who followed the former Inquisitor to certain death. Who they all were in form and in spirit, erased by politics, forgotten by time and history, before sudden rediscovery. 

She repeats their names and tells herself, “Commit them to memory. Do not forget who they were and what they did. Do not forget that Ameriden was Dalish and a friend to King Drakon. Do not forget his sacrifice. Remember the truth.” 

Whether it’s a prayer to herself or to Thedas, she does not know. Both, maybe. To ease the fear that still clings to her, and the gnawing disgust she feels towards herself, for the truth that she erased. Justinia’s sacrifice in pushing her out of the Fade, rewritten to be the hand of Andraste and never to be known.

“They will be terrified. Let them have their stories,” she’d been told. And so, she allowed only stories to grow.

Selfishly, Eludysia steers her thoughts towards the present and unknowns of the future. Towards her Inquisition and the actions taken in its name. She wonders, when 800 years are come and gone again, how likely history would remember the Inquisition as it is. With a Dalish mage as its leader, called also the Herald of Andraste, who carries a mark that once scarred and healed the sky? What would it make of her deeds, good and bad? Or her advisors’? Or the people who fought and bled by her side?

And then, she wonders about him. How could she not? Telena was forgotten. So was her kindness and love. All because she was an elf. One who practiced magic, besides. How much would history want to remember of another elven mage? Even though he risked his life and kept hers, and thus the world’s, safe? 

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me.”

His words are as clear as the sky, even under a new prism. A bitter laugh escapes her and she shakes her head. How right you were, Solas.

A light finger traces the smooth skin of her chin, where Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin used to be. It’s strange, how months have passed and she has yet to be accustomed to the absence of the markings-- and to the hollowed space that he had left in her chest. Though he had vanished from sight, his presence still lingered like her shadow, Crestwood and their could have beens hanging overhead as questions without answers. If she simply shut her eyes, she could still see him, hear him, imagine the things he might say. But all that she has now, is memory.

“I will not forget. Nor will I let them.”

[carabas]

(for the Black Emporium prompt: "Colette is an academic out in the field hunting for clues about who Ameridan was, Ameridan has been rescued after 800 years of fending off a powerful dragon abomination. Imagine if he survived and could give answers to some of the theories she'd been researching." In which Colette meets her history crush.)

After the Inquisitor’s visit, Colette spends the remainder of the day documenting the Tevinter ruins. She barely notices the darkening sky until she finds herself struggling to make out her own notes, until a green light flashes overhead and illuminates the page. And she looks up just as a glowing wisp darts through the air and brushes against her cheek.  

At its touch, a deep, pleasant voice echoes through her mind.

We have a plan. Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. My spirit companion believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it. It is less clear whether I can do so without—

The voice cuts off as the wisp drifts away, taking up a position circling the statue at the heart of the ruins. And Colette frowns up at it in consternation.

Spirits. Always meddling with the most important sites. Useful for preservation, but then they make it impossible to date anything accurately; mimicking history, but with no way to tell how much of what they say reflects the actual events and how much came from someone’s wild imagination. About as reliable as insights from a dream. And its presence in these ruins means she’s going to have to be doubly careful to verify everything she’s discovered here—not that she wouldn’t have done that anyway.

Still, she scrambles to jot down its exact words before she forgets them.

It’s something, to hear Ameridan’s voice here in this place where he and his companions had walked, still lingering after all these years. Even if it isn’t real.

It’s a long walk back to the base camp, and bird song’s given way to chirping insects and the occasional rustling of some unseen creature in the undergrowth—some nocturnal predator probably, and she’s probably not lucky enough to be rescued by the Inquisitor twice in the same day, and she should really see about bringing along some Inquisition scouts for the return trip tomorrow. But even the prospect of another hungry pack of lurkers can’t dampen her excitement much, and she spends the walk mentally cataloguing the work still to be done. The discoveries she’s made today alone, the contributions to their understanding of Inquisitor Ameridan’s era of early Chantry history—it’s a feast after spending years searching for scraps.

Tonight definitely deserves a treat from her limited stash of hot cocoa, she decides.

There’s a crowd clustered in the lights of the base camp, so many people hanging around the gate that she can’t manage to get through; she just manages to spot the surgeon running towards them, then ducking out of her sight.

When she asks what’s going on, one of the scouts in front of her answers in a hushed whisper. “They found the last Inquisitor.”

She thinks her heart just stopped. “The resting place? It’s here?” We were right. Maker, this book is going to make history.

The scout shakes his head, and he points through the crowd, leaning aside just enough for her to see what everyone’s clustered around, the unconscious man that the surgeon’s kneeling over. “They found the Inquisitor.”

She doesn’t recognize the man on the ground. One of the Dalish scouts, clearly, with the tattoos, but not one she knows—though that antique armor he’s wearing isn’t Inquisition uniform; it looks almost like—

It penetrates. “What?”

Inquisitor Ameridan looks nothing like she’d imagined. And granted, the historical records are quite vague on his appearance—and privately, her mental image had been mostly based on an Orlesian novel about the Inquisitor and his lady mage; it was quite tasteful, really—and granted, lying unconscious on the surgeon’s cot is perhaps not the most accurate of first impressions.

He looks kind, the lines of his face. Smile lines. She hadn’t expected that.

Breaking down the camp and getting ready for the journey to Skyhold, Colette hesitates outside the surgeon’s tent, her arms full of a box of mineral samples. There’s a pair of guards keeping watch, but she and Professor Kenric have been in and out of that tent all day, and the guards pay her no mind anymore.

The surgeon and the spirit healer have stepped outside at the moment, locked in a heated debate about bile and bloodletting. They’ve been doing a lot of that. Inquisitor Ameridan keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, and there isn’t a standard method of treatment for eight hundred years’ worth of magical exhaustion, or for the sudden loss of some kind of spirit companion who’s kept you alive all that time.

But she’s hearing voices inside the tent too. And the real Ameridan’s voice sounds just the same as he had in her head, at the wisp’s touch.

He’s awake.

Peering through the tent flap, she sees that strange boy that the Inquisitor—the other Inquisitor—that Inquisitor Lavellan has been looking after, the boy whose name she can never remember.

“Too bright, blinding, breaking, broken. ‘Get to safety. I will seal us both away. …It's not forever.’”

Cole. That’s his name. Colette doesn’t know how she keeps forgetting that.

She sees Ameridan’s hand grasp Cole’s, then fall back. And feeling she’s intruding, Colette lets the tent flap fall closed, just as she hears Ameridan say, “Thank you.”

A career spent picking away at pieces of a mystery, and now she’s had the whole answer dumped in her lap all at once. She’s still not sure she believes it.

And that’s the trouble. Even with all their documentation of the Inquisitor’s last days in the Frostback Basin, when it comes to proving that the man now recovering in Skyhold is who he says he is, there’s very little in the way of physical evidence and a whole lot depending on Inquisitor Lavellan’s word about what she saw, dragon-god skull or no.

And for anyone already inclined to mistrust the Inquisition, Colette has to admit it’s a bit of a stretch. So convenient for Inquisitor Lavellan, the elven upstart who crowned herself as the new Inquisitor and declared the rebel mages under her protection, to suddenly discover that the last true Inquisitor was really an elf, and a mage, and here in the flesh to give her his blessing; the perfect precedent conjured out of nothing, too convenient to be believed.

And then there’s those who accept the Inquisition’s claims just because they think supporting the Inquisition could work to their own advantage, not because they care about the truth or the accuracy of Colette’s research one way or the other. History dependent on politics. That leaves an even worse taste in her mouth.

Which is why Professor Kenric is packing for Orzammar and the Shaperate, prepared to search for every scrap of corroborating evidence of their claims, when the answer to all their questions is right there in Skyhold’s guest quarters.

“It’s the chance of a lifetime,” the professor says for what has to be the dozenth time, somehow managing to sound both giddy and as if he’s trying to convince himself at once. Colette can sympathize; under any other circumstances, she would be mad with jealousy at a chance to access the Shaperate’s records.

But it’s hard to be jealous, when instead she’s sitting beside Ameridan’s bedside as he patiently answers her questions, trading every answer for a question of his own; as she sketches Haron and Orinna from his description until they’re both satisfied with the result, while she tells him, haltingly, about their last stand, and then about the Dales, Drakon, the Blights, and Seekers and mages and spirits and the alienage where she grew up and Qunari hot cocoa, and the dragons that no one hunts anymore, or hardly anyone aside from Professor Frederic anyway, because they’d seemed extinct until they weren’t, another wonder from the past that everyone had thought was gone forever. Everything. As much of the past eight hundred years as she can piece together for him.

Maker, he’s tall, she thinks the first time she sees him out of bed without needing his staff to lean on; and then when she sees him in the long lines of the Inquisition’s formal uniform, looking like he’d just stepped out of that Orlesian novel.

He looks even taller as he moves through the alleyways of Halamshiral, the line of his back ramrod straight, and they draw curious looks as they move deeper into the slums. And this isn’t where they’re supposed to be; their diplomatic visit to the Winter Palace on their way to the University, the stops along the way, the meeting with Keeper Levinia Ghilain, it’s all been carefully scheduled. But he follows her lead when she veers off the planned path; gives her a curious look, and then sets out as if he knows where he’s going, ground-devouring strides, putting an end to the protest of their escort in formal livery and formal masks, forcing the escort to hurry to keep up with them.

The river might not have changed since his time, or the mountains around the city, but everything else must have. Even just within Colette’s lifetime, the city’s changed beyond recognition. She can still see the scars where the Empress of Fire earned her name; whole neighborhoods gone, cobbled-together shelters that can’t have been standing for more than a year and don’t look likely to hold together for much longer, older buildings left abandoned, roofs fallen in and doors boarded over.

All this to remind the elves not to forget their place. And yet now Colette’s walking through Halamshiral at Ameridan’s side with a sword slung across her back, an elf openly carrying a weapon within the city, and not one guard has tried to stop her.

Ameridan pauses on a bridge over the river, identical to half a dozen others, of no particular significance that Colette can see. His hands gripping the iron railing.

“Andraste’s children were the ones who granted us the Dales in the first place,” he says, sounding more bewildered than anything else. “For Drakon’s chantry to be the ones to do—this—”

He doesn’t finish the thought, just spreads his hands wordlessly.

Drakon’s chantry. As if it was just that, just a group of the faithful started by a friend of his.

Hesitant, she puts her hand over his, where he’s been gripping the railing. And she watches his shoulders sag as a little of the tension goes out of him.

She asks him what it was like, the old Halamshiral, the way he remembers it. And looking up at the Winter Palace silhouetted against the sky in the distance, he begins to tell her, clasping her hand in his own.

Everything always seems so meaningful in the stories about him, the novels and the historical accounts both. Like every event has a purpose behind it. There may be pieces missing in the records, but when she’s reading, it’s always felt like if she could just fill in enough of those blanks, the world would make sense.

But he’s not a character in a book.

“Would it be that bad, if you can’t prove who I am?”

They’re sitting in Skyhold’s garden, with one of the books on the Divine Age that Ameridan had asked her for. The Sword of Drakon: An Examination of the Life and History of the Father of Orlais. Though it’s far from the most historically accurate depiction of Drakon’s life after Ameridan's disappearance. He passes her a mug as he sits down, unasked, and she’s startled to find it full of hot cocoa.

And that question’s such an understatement, she barely knows where to begin.

“There’s so much we’ve forgotten,” she manages. “You’re—everything.” Eloquent.

He’d spent half the morning in the undercroft with Dagna and Harritt and his perfectly preserved Divine Age armor, listening to them argue over innovation and older methods, historical techniques that have gotten lost over time, across the Exalted Marches, the Blights.

And he comes from a time period when there was just the Blight, one, a singular event, and over and done with; when people hadn’t believed there would ever be another, not even when the darkspawn had already overrun half the Anderfels. She can’t picture what that would be like, the kind of future he must have imagined for the world, without the Blights constantly knocking them down again. As if you’d only have to get through one winter, and then it would be flowers for the rest of your days. It must have seemed like anything was possible.

And he’s not sure it matters if anyone recognizes who he is.

Just the sheer fact of him makes anything seem possible again.