#i imagine warden gifts can be awkward

[midmorninggrey]

Tagged by @inquisimer to create my OCs in this picrew, and their swords in this picrew. Thank you! I've never done a picrew before - so many choices. Shout out to the artists who put them together!

Gillian Hawke - If she's going to kill people, Gill figures she might as well use a fancy knife (rubies and gold preferred.)

Celeste Trevelyan - I think this sword design is something crazy Cece would draw up to show Dagna. She has the tastes of any self-respecting teenage necromancer: bats, purple, and moss. Luckily for an Inquisition that is already struggling with a questionable image, the young Herald decides to stick with her bow and staff.

Marcus (AKA Cal) - The sword with personal significance! It's supposed to have a carved griffon head on the pommel, but I thought the sunburst was nice. Marcus' silverite arming sword was a gift from Warden-Commander Duncan. Given his status as a mage, Marcus didn't need to learn swordsmanship, but he pursued it with a tenacity that earned him grudging respect from his fellow Wardens. However, his friend Magaleth the Mapmaker wasn't terribly impressed by his skills, so she enchanted a Lightning Rune into the sword.

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Tagging onto @samseabxrn (I've been sending a lot your way so no pressure) and whoever else wants to look at all these snazzy character creation choices.

[ljdoublecc]

Who Do You Choose?

Guards x Reader: Prologue

Favorite flower- (F/F)

Favorite color- (F/C)

Last name- (L/N)

Favorite animal- (F/A)

‘Great, how did I get myself into this mess?’ you asked yourself while simultaneously sweat dropping at the scene before you. 

All the supervisors were currently fighting in the middle of the guard room and you have no idea why.

Everything that morning had been going great for you. You woke up to a beautiful day, amazing breakfast, and had gotten to work early, so you didn't get yelled at by your supervisor. But that is where everything just started to go downhill. 

****Earlier that day****

You had just gotten to your designated building, building 5, when you started noticing weird things going on. 

First, when you got into building 5’s office, ready to start the paperwork you were too tired to finish last night,  you saw that it was already finished and neatly on your desk. If that didn't startle you before, seeing a neatly wrapped gift, a bouquet of (F/F), and (F/C) teddy bear did. 

Next, when you were out on the training grounds supervising the inmates, one of them came up to you. You smiled warmly at the qi-gong user, Upa, as he began asking you questions about how he can improve his form. You, being the nice person you are and also being a national champion at fighting, not only did you decide to give him some pointers but also show him. As you were in the middle of explaining how he can deliver a harder punch, he stopped you, looking paler than he usually does. Getting concerned for the young man, you asked if he was okay, to which he replied with a shaky yes before running off to do more exercise. This confused you greatly, he looked as if he had seen a ghost, but you didn't get enough time to think anymore upon the behavior when Samon, your supervisor, and Mitsuru came up to you because the warden wanted to see you. 

On the walk to headquarters is where you noticed the third weird thing, Mitsuru was talking more than usual. At first, you thought that you were imagining it because talking was practically his middle name, but as time went on, you started to notice. So, once again being the nice person you were, just smiled and listened to his endless talking, which didn't bother you because you honestly did like him speaking, he was always a bucket of fun to be around.

Fourthly, when you got to the waiting room, you saw that Kiji and Kenshirou were also there. Kiji was looking frantically in his hand mirror to make sure his makeup was still fabulous and Kenshirou was typing away rather nervously at his computer. When they finally noticed your presence they seemed a little startled, like a person would look if they were not fully prepared. You bid Mitsuru a thank you before turning to them to give a warm hello and smile, which only startled them more but they still managed to give you an ify hello back. Not wanting to make the atmosphere more awkward than it already was, Kiji decided to offer you a seat next to him on the couch, much to Kenshirou’s displeasure, to which you excepted with a smile. Making the makeup-clad supervisor blush and the dog like supervisor sulk into his computer.

That didn't last for long as both supervisors started competing to see who you would talk to the most. As you waited for the warden to call you in, you listened as the ‘conversation’ went on, you were just thankful that you could multitask because otherwise, that would have been difficult to bare. 

Fifthly, when you were finally called into the warden’s office, the atmosphere emitting from the door made you, her friend, feel a twinge of concern. So, being one of her only female friends, you were determined to make sure that she was okay,  after all,  running a prison was hard work. You walked right up to the door and knocked on it, to which you received a nervous, high-pitched squeak that told you to enter, this made you even more concerned than before. You opened the door quickly and stepped in to be greeted with an unusual sight. The warden was sitting at her desk, hands intertwined on top, and her head held high with a harsh glare plastered on her face. She is normally never like that when she calls you to her office. 

Most people would take one look at her and run away, even Hajime would do the same, but not you. You know your friend well, even if you only knew them for one month, and you knew that that glare wasn't intentional but accidental. So keeping that in mind, you walked quickly up to her, still with that concerned look on your face, and asked her what was wrong. This surprised her momentarily because normally people couldn't tell her true emotions but she quickly shook it off. She responded with a yes and a brilliant smile to your question, much to your relief. Her response caused you to give your own dazzling smile but it rapidly went away when the warden turned around in her chair and refuse to turn around the rest of the conversation. That was definitely one of the most bizarre conversations you’ve ever had. 

Finally, when you stepped out of the warden’s office because your meeting with the warden was finished, you met with someone you hadn’t expected to meet. Leaning against the wall right outside the warden’s office stood none other than Nanba’s number one supervisor, Hajime Sugoroku, with a blank expression on his face in your direction. You gave him a smile, not noticing the extremely small blush on his face due to the dark shade covering the top half of his figure, and asked what he was doing out of curiosity. He cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the blush before you notice, and said that he was looking for you because he needed your help with something very important. You grinned even more as you agreed to help, knowing that he works too much and that it was rare for him to ask for help. He pushed himself off the wall and began walking with you out of the hallway that leads back to the waiting room.

On the way to the waiting room, you saw that he was stiffer than normal around you. So to relieve some of the tension you decided to tell him some of the funny stories from back home, hoping to make him laugh. Much to your relief, it worked and the rest of the trip there was filled with a joyous atmosphere but that didn’t last long.

The minute the two of you stepped into the room, the atmosphere was murderous and almost blood lustful, Hajime was punched square in the face, leading him to fly into the wall face first, by none other than Samon. Now the joyous smile you wear just seconds ago turned into a mortified frown while Samon wears a prideful smirk, though it did not last long either. Hajime got up quickly, making you sigh in relief but then go back to your prior expression, and pounced on the poor monkey supervisor, now regretting his previous action. 

The two wrestled on the floor as you frantically tried to stop them but every time you did you were held back by the other two because they knew how dangerous getting in between the two could be. The both of them also saw it as an opportunity to ask you something very important, however, when they were going to ask you, they were rudely interrupted. The two on the floor each reached an arm out, Samon grabbing Kiji while Hajime grabbed Kenshirou, and dragged them into the fight.

That basically explains how you got into your current situation.

****Back to the Present****

You couldn’t continue watching your superiors wrestle on the floor anymore, even more now that it had attracted the attention of the warden and Mitsuru.

“Can all of you please stop fighting, this is getting us nowhere!” You yelled pleadingly, gaining everyone’s sights in your direction. You’re normally not one to yell but if you had to, you have your parents to thank for your lung capacity.

“I agree with officer (L/N),” The warden agreeingly stated to the female guard statement, before sternly asking the supervisors, ”Now, who started it?”

Everyone, except the warden, Mitsuru, and you, turned to look at the downcasted monkey guard. The warden looked like she was about to commit murder as she stared at him, the others, minus you and Mitsuru backed away from her. She was about to approach him, to which he started to sweat up a storm out of pure fear, but stopped when she felt a warm, gloved hand on her shoulder.

Your hand rested on her shoulder with a warm smile on your lip as if telling her to please not murder him. After a few seconds, she seemed calmer so you released her shoulder, much to her disappointment, and turned your attention to Samon who was, like everyone else in the room, relieved.

“Samon, I have one question for you and you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to but... Why did you punch Hajime in the face?” You asked gently, in case it was a personal question that he might not want to answer. He cast his eyes over the other supervisors, the warden, and Mitsuru before finally meeting your soft gaze. He sighed getting up, the other supervisors following suite, and took a deep breath before revealing their secret.

“That’s because...” Samon paused nervously, looking at the others for any sign not to tell you, but he received none, “Everyone in this room is in love with you.” 

To say you were shocked was an understatement, you know that people liked you but you thought that it was in a co-worker or friend like manner, not romantic. This can’t be true, right?

“It’s true, darling. We all like you.” Kiji added with a smile after noticing the look of disbelief and heat on your face.

“Now, the question is who do you pick?” Hajime said after you had finally grasped the idea that you were loved by many people. He exchanged looks with everyone in the room before they all split off into different directions confusing you for the time being.  When they all came back, they stood in a line in front of you, each holding something behind their back but you couldn’t see what they were holding. You were still confused, but you weren’t for long when they each bowed their heads to you, holding out the gifts. They were confessing to you at the same time, making you turn strawberry-red.

Momoko had your favorite homemade cookies, Mitsuru your favorite candy, Samon a bouquet, Hajime a single (F/C) rose, making Samon glare at him because flowers were his idea, Kenshirou had a (F/A) plushie, and Kiji had your favorite perfume.

“Now, who do you choose?” They all asked after a moment of silence.

[heniareth]

Twins AU (Round 2)

Since our original post exchange got a tad bit long, @bumblerhizal I’m starting a new one here ^^ First, a few things on the doodles: I’m still cackling XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD Especially about Amell (Pavle) going all “woe is me! 😩😩😩” over the dirt on his favorite robe while these two Alienage kids with probably multiple patches and mends on their clothes just look at each other like “can you believe this guy” XD XD XD XD XD XD XD It’s sooooooooo good and I am now imagining Pavle coming face to face with Sigrun’s particular brand of cheerful dead inside XD XD XD The official Grey Warden merch is amazing and our guys are great models. I really want that on a shirt now (and I could, now that I think of it. Ooooooh it’s tempting). I love Valendrian’s grey hair counter. The expression is on point XD XD XD The Plum of Peace should be a Feastday gift. And it’s very good to see reference for Radka, Pavle and Mr Andras (Who looks so kind!!!!!) Mousevhen is absolutely adorable. I want to give him all the pickled beets in the world

Next, onto the further building out of this AU:

You say Novhen is not able to realize that they’d work better as a team until they’re both neck-deep in the Blight. Is there a key moment when he’d realize? I wonder if they ever get to talk about the different conception they have of themselves and each other and their role with regards to one another or if it eternally stays as this sort of undercurrent until Novhen leaves to join Morrigan. I like the fact that Novhen sees himself as the lone wolf. It’s juicy and it makes a lot of sense given the backstory we’ve given them. And really, before becoming wardens, they have both been doing their own thing in pursuit of the same goal: Astala was working, and Novhen was criming. Astala would probably be between surprised, shocked and hurt if she ever found out (“What, am I not good enough to stand next to you now?”; not that she’d say it like that unless thoroughly provoked), but this is (partly) on her. IF she ever finds out she’s gonna have to chew on that. And it’s funny, bc when I got around to the Landsmeet and Denerim in my latest playthrough, both of Astala’s blades were better than Fang (yay for Starfang--also a fang!--and Topsider’s Honor). Kinda sad that I didn’t get to use Adaia’s Fang in-game. If this sticks in this AU, she’d be at a bit of a loss what to do when Novhen offers it to her, bc on one hand it was her mother’s, on the other that’s a weapon with a whole lot of emotional baggage and expectations attached, and on the third Novhen is giving it to her and what will he think if she says no? Will it be further rejection of Adaia and the cult and everything that tied into it?

She might just give the dagger to Novhen after the battle of Denerim as a side weapon. Everybody needs a dagger, and she’s already made good use of it. Funny how these two have feelings of inferiority with regards to each other, huh? Astala about not being rogue-y enough, Novhen about not being a dual wielder. Welcome to being siblings

And now I’m imagining Novhen at the docks, looking out over the ocean where they’ve taken half of the Alienage. Oh he’s gonna blame himself again T_T T_T

Let me jump to Broken Circle real quick, since we’re already talking about Astala and Novhen’s relationship with regards to Adaia. First of all, MOUSEVHEN!! HECK YEAH!! But also it might be Astala as well who’d ask him to stay in elf form for a bit so she isn’t alone with their ma. I think the reunion would on one hand be tough on Astala (depending on if she got the chance to apologize to Adaia after her outburst or if she held on to the grudge too long and then boom! Adaia’s dead), but on the other hand also awkward. By this point Astala’s had time to drift further from the cult and Adaia’s teachings. Seeing Adaia again would confront her with exactly how much she’s distanced herself. This and the fact that she’s left Novhen all alone to carry Adaia’s legacy. She may not believe in the cult or Fen’Harel, but she recognizes the need to keep traditions alive, and it’s not fair to expect Novhen to do all the work because she was angry. That said, she still does carry a grudge. Idk how or if she’d reconcile that, but she might come to the conclusion that she owes Novhen an apology. And, as far as I understand, meeting Adaia again is primarily going to bring a reassurance and some healing for Novhen, right?

Does Adaia have a temper? I somehow imagine her as having one, although she’d have a firm grasp on it

And Astala will definitely take Novhen up on doing target practice! They’re both bad at it now, so it’s fine XD XD Ilanlas and Nathaniel will be explicitly banned when these two are practicing

Oh, and Ilanlas will definitely say something insensitive about the city elves at some poin, count on it. Astala’s got a big shirt permanently within reach. How she’ll catch two very dextrous rogues is another question (maybe she waits until they’re busy arguing and thus distracted). Or she’ll tell Ilanlas he’s being an ass, Ilanlas will first put on airs and then mumble an apology through his teeth. Novhen seems like the type to hold grudges, right? Depending on the grudge, probably, but there’s already the thing with Nelaros’ ring. Things aren’t looking too good for Novhen’s opinion of Ilanlas. In that case, Ilanlas will have to content himself with them simply being companions. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s alienated potential friends because he was being an ass. He does warm up to Astala tho ^^ Ilanlas and Novhen might then be “that guy I’m only associated with bc I’m friends/siblings with this one very social person” to one another XD XD XD

I love the idea of Novhen telling the story of the Dread Wolf slow arrow around the campfire! Ilanlas would be all ears. Stories about Dalish gods from an Alienage are not something he comes across every day. He would, however, definitely go “the moral of the story OBVIOUSLY is that you shouldn’t trust the Dread Wolf”. And yeah, it’s not so much that Ilanlas invokes Fen’Harel for help, but rather that he expects the Dread Wolf to twist the words of a Dalish elf’s prayer to another god, because That’s What Trickster Gods Do.

Ilanlas will share his arrowmaking techniques, and he’ll definitely show him some heavy arrowheads the clan uses against fully armored templars. I feel like Novhen would be interested in that. As for pointers on stealthing in a city, first he has to not get overwhelmed by the noise. Then he has to hide his vallaslin XD XD Tramaking would be good bc Ilanlas knows traps for small game, but not for humanoid creatures. Tips will be welcome. As for quiet time during arrow repair, Ilanlas would love that. He needs his quiet time to wind down. If Novhen’s the one to walk over to him, or Creators forbid, invites him, Ilanlas might be a bit surprised that Novhen would want his company. If it’s been a good day, he’d count it as a win, if it’s been a bad day, he’d keep turning it round and round his head why Novhen would seek him out. I do have to note that Ilanlas sometimes starts humming to himself or singing really really quietly while he works. I hope Novhen isn’t bothered by that

Perinella is going to drag Kieran around with her if he’ll let her XD XD XD At some point they’ll sneak out and raise mayhem in the market (without outing themselves as mages, obviously. They’re smart kids 😌😌😌). Also, if Morrigan teaches her to shapeshift, her favorite form WILL be something with really pretty colors. She’s got Astala’s taste for fine dresses ^^

That Soris is already married to a human woman might work in Novhen’s favor, then. Let’s hope it does. Let’s cross our fingers real hard. Realistically, Cyrion probably won’t know too much about Soris and his family, right? Sounds like he broke off contact when he moved. Maybe Astala and Novhen should visit. Try to see how he’s doing. Try to reestablish contact

The question about the bann is a tough one because a) I don’t want Shianni to die but b) Novhen and Astala don’t know that Shianni will die if they make her bann. Astala agrees that Shianni is still young, but give her a few years and she’ll make a terrific bann. But also, Astala’s kind of wary of placing responsability like that on Shianni’s shoulders. Look what responsability is doing to her! I think keeping it tied to the position of hahren is a smart choice, even after it turns out Valendrian has disappeared. After all, the hahren already had most of the duties a bann would have. Maybe the title of hahren as a title could be preserved and given more of an alienage-internal role (Maker and Dread Wolf know there are enough problems, disputes, and people who need help inside the Alienage to give work to several hahrens at the same time). In that case tho, I think Shianni would make a better bann than a hahren

Also, good! I like that Kieran gets to have a bit of point to his ears XD XD XD Agreed, I don’t care for the “all half-elves look exactly like humans” either. That’s not how genetics work and having half-elves looking like hal-elves, elves and/or humans makes things much more interesting

We’re then having Khêd, Sulri, Ilanlas and Wynne arrive late at the tower, earliest when Astala’s already on top of the archdemon’s head ready to slice down. Maybe Zevran could be with them as well (although three rogues for one group that’s going into the market with all those ogres seems a bit much), and thus be greeted by a truly horrifying sight 😈 Or he’s already there. Kudos for Pavle for not wanting to cross Irving’s path, he’s a smart man and will get far

Also yes on the horror stories of jobs on ships turning out to be traps leading to enslavement. It makes a ton of sense and feeds right into that spirit of “stay with your own, don’t make trouble, and you might make it to the age of 70″.

Regarding Ostagar: yeah, I figured the newbies wouldn’t be allowed to the big ol’ warmeeting. Totally unfair. I’m currently laughing at the image of Novhen’s eyes flashing over to the group and the four of them going “oh shit oh shit” internally XD XD XD Good on him for not snitching!! Everybody appreciates that. Khêd probably especially so

Sulri might indeed run with Novhen to the tower. She prefers to keep away from darkspawn (not that Khêd does so any less, but Khêd’s also a softie) and I’m considering having her develope feelings for Alistair, so she might want to check in on him. Khêd and Ilanlas would attract a few looks at the very least if they made it to Ostagar. A dwarf and a Dalish elf make for a weird pair. Fortunately, as far as I know Khêd so this may be subject to change, Khêd grumbles only when he’s comfortable. When he’s not, he’s got a cheerful thing going on that‘s not always entirely convincing, but will definitely offset Ilanlas’ snark (“Nothing personal, salroka :)” before he attacked Oskias). They could find Pavle and their small group would get even weirder! A dwarf with missing teeth and a fake cheerful smile, a Dalish elf with the most obvious vallaslin you could imagine, and a guy who’s very very clearly a Circle mage in a town full of templars. What could go wrong?

I also do agree that Lothering is the more easy place for a reunion. Especially with Astala’s head for navigating forests U_U

Khêd would probably keep a close eye on Radka until the fight with Jarvia. Then she’s okay in his books. He’ll definitely want to know how Leske got to be Jarvia’s right-hand man and what happened to her though. He understands the Carta being done with someone. They wouldn’t have rescued him during his origin either. Her pledging himself to Khêd would definitely make him raise his eyebrows. “You mean I’ve got some authority in this dump now?” *gestures at the Carta hideout* Once Radka gets to the surface and turns into her jester self, Khêd will probably definitely think the shock of the surface (and the sun!!) is being too much for her. Astala will probably be delighted though ^^

It’s a shame Novhen doesn’t get to dance during the ball at the Winter Palace, but yeah, a public dance together would be far too dangerous. Later in Morrigan’s quarters seems a good compromise ^^

Many of Astala’s recipe modifications will probably center around making the pastry more hefty (“It’s gotta feed you, not just taste good, y’know?”) and also putting in fun new ingredients (“Have you ever tried this chocolate thing? It’s amazing, have a piece”)

Astala’s definitely going to appreciate Novhen having her back during the infiltration of the arl of Denerim’s estate. I think she kinda knows as soon as they get to the room where Nola died that she could’ve maybe chosen a different, better moment to confront the past than the extraction of the imprisoned queen of Ferelden. But, here she is. Novhen’s support is gonna be a huge thing for her just to remind her where she is and what she’s doing and help her focus. And he also gives her the safety in knowing that, should she be out of comission at any point, there’s somebody competent she trusts wholeheartedly to take over. The two big bad spots for her are where Nola died (right at the beginning of the route) and where Nelaros died (at the entrance of the estate). The second one isn’t good bc they’re gonna be in the middle of the estate. Apart from that, I think she’ll manage just fine except for sounding a little off. She processes things slowly, which comes in handy here. No sudden shutdowns or anything like that 🙌

Also, I like the idea of ser Cauthrien having them surrounded. Otherwise people might be tempted to try and fight their way through. Between being surrounded and the need to keep the diplomatic route open, I think it’s quite plausible for the team to surrender the wardens. And ser Cauthrien does let the other companions go as promised, which speaks to her character. But damn that guard. It does sound like Novhen to try and sneak away as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. If Novhen’s getting concussed, you’ll have Astala struggling against whoever’s holding her back and trying to get between Novhen and those guards. And telling ser Cauthrien off for allowing that. That’s how Loghain treats his prisoners?? What the hell??

And oooooh, so mechanically speaking they reduce Novhen to 0 hitpoints? Damn, that’s rough O.O Especially if at that point he already has that one rogue talent that lets you play dead available and tries to play dead, but the guards don’t let themselves be deterred by that (although idk if you like that idea. Might be a bit much gratuitious violence?) As far as cleaning Fort Drakon goes, it’s very tempting. But there is still a need to keep the diplomacy route open. Right now, the Blight has priority, and they will need all the men they can have. That includes the blighted bastards at the fort.

But it really is tempting to have a shem massacre 2.0

Also, back to Anroa and the negotiations: Astala would want to be there after UITA at the very latest. She’s torn on whether or not she believes that Anora knew nothing about the slavers’ presence (and will probably consult Novhen on his opinion on the matter). I think she’ll let Novhen lead that conversation, with the occasional follow-up question or voicing of her opinion. He seems sure as to what to do, and he tends to do these things very, very well. She’s going to take the opportunity to observe Anora and try to figure out how she works. I could imagine Anora being a bit unnerved at these two city elves in whose hands her position of power (and maybe also her life?) lies; and that straight after her father sold half the Alienage into slavery!

[sweetmage]

SebastianxBethany -or- CarverxMerrill

Hi! Sorry for the late response! Well, late for me anyway, I guess it's still the same day😅

For Seb/Bethany... I don't actually ship this personally. I would try to answer the questions anyway for fun, but unfortunately I don't know Bethany very well/have never seen them together other than skimming their banters on the wiki so I don't think I can't add much😅No shame to them at all though, I have seen some of their banters and they definitely got some little thang going on!!! As for Merrill/Carver... I like them a lot 😌

when I started shipping it if I did: This was my first DA2 ship. I was sad when Carver left (and even sadder that he became a templar in my playthrough, like come on...), I wanted to see more of him and Merrill!!!!

my thoughts: I think they are very awkward and cute, love how flustered he gets around her. It's also really sweet to see the softer side of him.

What makes me happy about them: Same as above! Also height difference. They're also just very funny, I loved that she thought everything he said was an innuendo when he was being more wholesome than Hawke could ever hope to be when flirting with her. She also doesn't pick on him or antagonize him the way the other characters seem to!

What makes me sad about them: They get separated from each other no matter what (wardens, templars, or death), but I would imagine him becoming a templar in my playthrough kinda puts a huge wedge in things, I don't really see them coming back from that tbh 😅 Though perhaps there is something juicy in the heartbreak/betrayal of it ending in that way. And Warden Carver is a whole other can of worms...

things done in fanfic that annoys me: I have never read a fanfic about them. However, I do not like when any fic infantilizes Merrill or has a non-mage step in to save the day because she "doesn't know what she's doing" or whatever so I would dislike that here too.

things I look for in fanfic: I think I'd only prefer to read fluffy things about them, personally. Especially her worrying over a warden Carver, especially in a canon where one of her clanmates became the HoF so she'd have that personal experience to strengthen her concern for him. Not to mention the general issues with maintaining a relationship while being a warden, etc. I'd love to see them navigate that. I'm sure there's a million fics about that, I just don't read fics often so I'll have to look some other time😅

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I also ship Carver with an unnamed male warden I just mentioned offhand in a fic once and I ship Merrill with Isabela, my m!blood mage Hawke, sometimes with my dalish circle mage/blood mage El'la as a QPP. I also sometimes ship her in an OT3 with Tamlen (who survived) and my dalish warden Savil. I also love her having some sorta deep platonic thing going on with my canon Hawke and Anders post-canon. Same with her and Sebastian being deeply close besties. (Merrill is my favorite DA character so I think about her with everyone, she has such good chemistry with so many people)

My happily ever after for them: I think it might be asking a lot for them to ever have a normal, quiet life but I'd at least like them write to each other frequently and find times to meet whenever they can, even if only just to chat and steal a smooch for a few minutes as he's passing through.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Carver as the little spoon is funny to me because he is so Large so I am kinda digging it. There is also something cute about the safety and security of being wrapped comfortably in her arms after many months away experiencing The Horrors. Not to mention post-nightmare too. He seems to take the whole Warden thing really well, but I can't imagine it isn't at least somewhat taxing.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Just catching up and sharing funny anecdotes, exchanging gifts perhaps. When they live such different lives that don't allow for much normalcy I could imagine it might be nice just to relax and enjoy each other's company peacefully for a while 💗

[hard-technology-rock]

im planning on writing a fic off of these ideas but i just really really really want to share them because there is a solid like 90% i won't actually finish/post the fic. So.

misc. emmet and melli interactions from my warden emmet au :) if you fall under basic dni material Do Not Touch

the Insult Battle tradition was started on the first night emmet was warden!! he was playing the flute for sneasler and melli waited until he was done to start insulting emmet and be his general melli self. emmet cut him off midspeech by saying "is everyone from the diamond clan as annoying as you?" which threw melli off his groove so bad he snarked "at least my flute is pleasant on my noble's ears" and then stalked off to sulk. and you know emmet was like Electrodes don't have ears warden melli!!!! melli vehemently denies hearing this (he did)

the next time they meet its daytime so they can actually see each other. melli ""won"" this interaction mostly by just calling emmet old

when melli found out emmet couldn't read hisuian* his first reaction was to make fun of him his second was to be like That's kind of sad ill teach you. thankfully what he outwardly displayed was more like shocked disbelief > silence > do you.. want to learn ?

so for at least several months emmet and melli would have extremely awkward daily sessions where melli would teach emmet written hisuian as well as some spoken hisuian he still didn't know. they do not speak of these sessions. as far as melli is concerned emmet could Always read hisuian

these sessions were really good for their Not Hating Each Other!

one day emmet was just having A Day. you know the kind. and melli was like Oh my sinnoh you're pathetic do you want to talk about your feelings or no. and emmet was like No on instinct but then he decided actually yeah i do. tjis was the first and definitely not the last time they just sat down and vented and aired secrets to each other

emmet (once he got his memory on his native language jogged) returned the favour by teaching melli some unovan. starting off with insults, of course.

imagining that emmet has a different team than ingo, and that emmet's had his roserade since it was a budew, please close your eyes and imagine for me emmet tossing his budew directly at melli "woe budew be upon ye" style

You All Are Cowards rei AND akari are arceus' chosen one. he did not want either one to be lonely :)

anways i say that bc the first time they saw melli and emmet get into an insult battle again they were so ready to throw down with melli and then all of a sudden the two wardens just Stopped and were civil with another again

i like to imagine they do this in front of their clan leaders at some point (maybe post game?) and they kinda just go o_o because damn they wish they had that kind of civil beef

when melli is like Lord electrode is FINE the frenzy is a GIFT from ALLMIGHTY SINNOH emmet confronts him later with a Fat "you were scared for your lord and yet you lied and said he was fine and resisted help. Why?" and melli just responds i am not having this conversation while there is a weird ass storm brewing Goodbye

a summary of their friendship:

emmet, showing up randomly outside melli's house: Uhmmm i just heard from rei and akari that kamado just kicked them out of jubilife for falling from the sky

melli: OK?? How is that my problem

emmet: while unreasonable i am nervous about him sending Goons after me

melli: you ? did not fall from the sky ? dumbass

emmet: but i am not from hisui

melli: ok listen how the fuck is he gonna know that. you've been a warden for a good while and it took you saying that you weren't from hisui for me to realize you weren't just some amnesiac grandpa the pearl clan took pity on

emmet, leaving: i am not a grandpa !! but yeah i believe you thanks

melli, definitely projecting: Dude you can't be alone in the middle of a weird storm... what if you slip and fall and die... you're staying here

emmet: what if Lady sneasler needs me ??

melli: just tell her to get her ass over here. Lol

* I Have So Many Headcanons Involving Langauges In The Pokemon Universe They Could Be Their Own Post. but basically emmet could speak decent enough sinnoh and hisuian is kind of just an archaic slightly more formal version of sinnoh? so while there were words he had to context clue together he wasn't Completly lost. also he was writing in unovan but he 1. does not know what language he was writing in just that was Not the one he was speaking and 2. his handwriting was So Bad it is almost unrecognizable as unovan

there's more but that's all for now :》 saving some for that highly hypothetical fic

[nevadawasnottaken]

love languages

the love language of dream smp members :) (platonic for minors! romantic for others) im doing them all bc they all deserve recognition! :D keep in mind i dont know all of their personalities well! (hbomb, antfrost, ponk, lazarbeam, etc) these are all c!dsmp (in game) those marked with * are ones im uncertain about/unfamiliar with! -- dream: gift giving or acts of service with a twinge of physical touch. mans will get anything for you, no lie. you want it? hes got it. dream xd: acts of service or gift giving. possibly touch, but i dont see him being keen on it unless its in private. i see him as someone who tries to spoil his s/o a lot. if youre a worthy lover of a god, you should be treated like one. george: probably acts of service, quality time and touch. man would probably cuddle with you while watching some movie that neither of you pay attention to. sapnap: touch or words of affirmation. he does like giving gifts on occasion though! probably something thatll remind you of him. but overall, he prefers hand holding or something. he likes knowing youre there. callahan*: quality time. i imagine he likes going places all over the smp. it makes him happy to take you places that he finds beautiful. even better when you find them beautiful too! sam: acts of service for sure. he would make you tea (or your preferred drink) on a bad day and wrap you in blankets and cuddle as much as youd like. or, he would leave you alone if you need it. hes very caring, warden persona aside. sam nook: gift giving seems his thing! or acts of service! he seems as if he would get you things to cheer you up, or just simply do things like tuck you in. if you want, he gladly will let you pet his lil ears. (yes i hc that sam nook has lil ears :) ) alyssa*: even if we dont see her much, she strikes me as the type to enjoy physical touch. hand holding or something simple. she prefers to stay out of the thick of things and chill, thanks. ponk*: touch or words of affirmation i think are very fitting. he seems the type to always have an arm around you or holding your hand. he definitely would be good at comforting, i think. badboyhalo: i think we can all agree that hes a mix of everything. i think hes most oriented with words of affirmation and quality time. he likes spending time with you, just telling you all the things he loves about you. tommy: more than likely quality time. i dont see him as one to like holding hands (”me? hold hands? grOSS! step away and leave some space for the holy spirit!”) or anything. hes not good with words of affirmation (he needs them, really) and hes a bit awkward with things like hand holding. so spending time with him is his thing. listening to his discs and joking around with you and tubbo is what makes him happy. tubbo: gift giving, touch and quality time. he likes spending time with those he cares for, as well as giving them gifts. little trinkets, mostly. for example, he gave ghostbur a bracelet woven from friends wool, and hes given tommy a ruby! :) fundy: probably gifts. fox man will find you shiny things. emeralds, diamonds, gold, you name it. even if you dont need/want it, he gets you things. rings and necklaces and bracelets. it makes him happy to see you wear them. not all at once, of course, but wear them nonetheless. punz*: acts of service and touch. hes the type to arrange your things to suprise you or leave you flowers on a bad day. he also would probably cuddle and ramble about how perfect you are to him. purpled*: quality time. i think he would gladly spend time with you if you asked him to :) wilbur: a little bit of everything, i think. but one thing i think he would definitely do is write songs, so basically making playlists, but he sings for you instead! but for one of the main ones, i think he mostly is one for touch and affirmations. he likes being comforted/comforting you. ghostbur: gift giving or touch. quality time, too! i think he likes giving you things (like blue!) in general. he also seems very clingy (which is adorable <3 anyone who says its not can fight me rn) and would gladly hold your hand! he often will just take it anyways. :) (”i like holding your hand! your hands are nice to hold because theyre warm!”) schlatt: quality time. like tommy, i think he isnt one for touch. maybe he will give you gifts, but spending time with him is enough of a gift for him. skeppy*: gift giving. he would probably get you big gifts, like stuffed animals or something. or photos. seems like a skeppy type thing to me. :) eret: a little of everything, i think. but i see his thing being touch and quality time. i think they would very gladly cuddle if you asked them to! but shes big spoon, no doubt about it. only little spoon if you ask. jack manifold*: acts of service or touch. he would make you food if you wanted it, i think, or hold your hand. maybe not the best with comfort or cooking, but he tries. (”look i- i know the cookies arent good, but its the thought that counds, right?”) niki: words of affirmation, quality time and touch would all be nikis thing! :) she would spend time with you, probably cuddling and providing comfort if needed. she would remind you every day that youre loved and youre worth it. quackity: definitely touch and quality time. when hes not busy, he takes you places. often to watch the sunset. he also strikes me as one for pda! a bit shy at first, but relaxes into it. hes definitely one to say “gotta show off my partner! >:)” mexican dream*: words of affirmation but in spanish dont @ me karl: do we need to even question this? (spoiler alert: quality time and touch) hbomb*: strikes me as the type for quality time and some touch :) techno: probably acts of service, gift giving and quality time. he likes holidays like christmas and your birthday because he can give you things. he likes shiny things! and he likes you, so he gives them to you! antfrost*: quality time and touch seem fitting. just the peace of being together. philza: quality time and gift giving with a bit of touch. he likes when you touch his wings, running your fingertips over the smooth feathers, or fixing any ruffled spots. he also likes spending quiet time together. he can give words of affirmation and comfort if you need them. connor*: probably touch! i see him as the type to want to hold your hand a lot. so def one for pda :) puffy: probably quality time and words of affirmation. goat mom would def be able to encourage and comfort you. vikkstar*: i think touch is fitting :) pda really, and acts of service lazarbeam*: acts of service seem most fitting! he seems the type to do things for you, especially on bad days. ranboo: gift giving and quality time! he is definitely the type to get you little things! or grass blocks. he gets sad if you rid of a grass block, so you kinda have to store em. or kindly explain that you dont want dirt inside, so you can put the grass blocks outside. foolish: the type for acts of service, i think! and maybe some touch. i think he gladly will do things for you, no questions asked. (unless it seems harmful ofc!) hannah*: seems the type to like words of affirmation (giving and receiving!) especially on your/her bad days. slimecicle: gift giving. he probably picks you flowers and does nice things whilst being sarcastic. he will comfort you on bad days, though. -- as usual, lmk if i should change tags! requests are open! 

[merryfortune]

little potplants

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt #61 Green

Ship: Saviorshipping | Ryoken/Spectre/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Word Count: 2,458

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags:  Fluff, Established Relationship, Polyamory

AN: this is a very silly and dramatic fic about chia pets

   Yusaku had finally gotten what he had wanted. What he wanted was Ryoken’s love and companionship. It just so happened that what Yusaku wanted came with one stipulation. One very Spectre shaped stipulation.

   Once more, Yusaku gave all his heart, as shackled by chains and scarred as it was, to Ryoken and rather than spurn him, Ryoken accepted it. And once more, Yusaku conveyed the hope that Ryoken had given him all those years ago and it made Ryoken sigh heavily. Though it was a lonely place, there was one more who sided with Ryoken on the side of that chasm than just Yusaku: that person was Spectre, who had pledged all his soul to Ryoken. Ryoken refused to let Spectre slip to the wayside so he gave Yusaku an ultimatum: both of them or neither of them.

   Yusaku didn’t have to hesitate. He thought of what Ai had taught him: to love people, not just one person and though Spectre was… quirky, to be polite about it, Yusaku would try not to mind. He recalled his duel with Lightning and the fervour in which spectre had duelled, his clever plays and the peculiar beauty of his aesthetics. Though they had treated each other poorly, at best, in each other’s duel, Spectre had been inspired most gallantly because of Yusaku so, he would try to get along with Spectre, if only for Ryoken.

   Thus, if Yusaku and Ryoken were prisoners of fate, then it would not be allowed by Ryoken’s decree that Spectre would be the warden of such a miserable, if romantic, declaration. Yusaku accepted that. He and Spectre, on the surface, did not appear to have much in common but they did have one thing at least: they had both loved Ryoken for ten years.

   However, the practice was much different to the theory and to the dramatic highs of this relationship. In practice, it was much, much more awkward.

   The mode of the relationship - or relationships, more accurately - was rather distant. Yusaku was not yet ready to move out of his apartment and with both Ryoken and Spectre. It would be inconvenient to him as he had returned to going school and their mansion was hardly close to campus and their cruiser liner was even further away. So, mostly their kisses and conversations were through text messages and video calls. It was probably for the best as they all needed to go slowly in the beginnings of this three-way relationships.

   But once in a while, the stars aligned for them to meet up either in the meat space or in the Link VRAINS. It wasn’t as rare as an eclipse but it was easy to miss. Sometimes Ryoken came round to Cafe Nagi for his usual hot dog, sometimes with Spectre in tow, sometimes not. 

   Other times, they crossed each others’ paths in the digital world. With Ai back, Yusaku wanted to bring back the other Ignis. The Knights of Hanoi were not hindering this mission of Yusaku but out of professionalism and their commitment to atonement, they weren’t helping him either. Ryoken refused to spoil Yusaku like that but Spectre was quietly pleased with the sentiment that one day, possibly one day soon if he was lucky, he might get to meet Earth properly.

   But whilst Ryoken consistently made Yusaku feel welcome and warm, with every greeting to every message or happenstance, it made the contrary all the more apparent to Yusaku. Spectre was not quite so open. Ryoken was reserved but in what moments of privacy he and Yusaku had together, they usually began or ended with Ryoken kissing Yusaku on the cheek. Spectre was not nearly as affectionate. Or verbal. And it was increasingly making Yusaku worry about whether or not having what he wanted was worth it.

   Perhaps Spectre was not quite as gungho about sharing Ryoken than Ryoken had been willing to bet. Of course, Spectre didn’t utter a single complaint; he followed this order like he did any other order but there was a detached coldness whenever he rubbed shoulders with Yusaku which, whilst infrequent, was still quite noticeable. 

   So, shyly, Yusaku did ask about it eventually, “Are you sure Spectre likes me?” he asked in a tiny voice.

   He rang Ryoken and made sure Ryoken was alone. Ryoken had high - even salacious - hopes for this but Yusaku’s question did catch him off guard. He had somewhat expected it. He had noticed the standoffishness that Spectre emanated whenever it was all three of them or some combination thereof.

   “Yes, I’m sure.” Ryoken replied. He sounded very understanding about it but Yusaku still chewed his lip.

   “Are you certain?” Yusaku insisted.

   “Yes, I’m sure.” Ryoken replied again and Yusaku could hear the patient smile in his voice. “I can prove it.”

   “How?” Yusaku asked flatly.

   “Spectre and I’ll drop around tomorrow. We can bring groceries around and have dinner together for once, doesn’t that sound nice?” Ryoken mused.

   “Yeah, it does…” Yusaku murmured, entirely unconvinced that one evening together would be enough to prove or sway the pendulum that he was worried about.

   “We’ll come around about an hour after you would get out of school, does that work for you?” asked Ryoken.

   “It does.” Yusaku told him.

   “Good, see you then, so… until then, bye, I love you.” Ryoken said.

   Yusaku blushed as he replied, “Bye, I love you, too.”

   The line went silent and Yusaku was still entirely convinced that Spectre did not like him and would never like him. It was an unusual feeling for him but acknowledging that did little to alleviate the horrible feeling in his guts. It was like the exact opposite of having butterflies in his stomach, it was more like having elephants. It was awful. Spectre was awful, too, but he seemed an entirely different person outside of the Link VRAINS despite very much wearing the same face.

   The following day went as smooth as high school could go for anyone. There were assessments and social blunders but nothing particularly gruesome. Yusaku even managed to have some spotty and bland conversations with both Shima and Aoi at different points of the day but he very much wanted to take them over Ryoken and Spectre. He was still very concerned as to how his date this evening would go as he could only imagine it as going disastrously.

   He returned home and got ready for his date. Ai was very happy about it. Yusaku hadn’t even wanted to tell Ai about this date or any of the worries that he had over in the knightdom of Hanoi but unfortunately for him, this triadic relationship had become Ai’s favourite to invest in. There wasn’t a single secret Yusaku could keep around Ai anymore and Ai relished in that. He cheered Yusaku on as he put himself through the shower and got into his best clothes. Not that Yusaku needed the encouragement but given how wracked his nerves were, he couldn’t say it wasn’t appreciated.

   His hair was still damp when Yusaku heard his doorbell ring. Ai gave him a big thumbs up from his perch on Yusaku’s desk where his duel disc was his throne and Yusaku weakly smiled back. With Yusaku’s laptop nearby, Ai was content to surf the ‘net and binge sketchy cartoons all night and therefore, wouldn’t disrupt or otherwise cause warfare downstairs on his date.

   Yusaku smiled shakily as he opened his front door and he immediately noticed that he was out-dressed by both Ryoken and Spectre, “Hey,” he said, “I’m glad the two of you could make it.”

   “It's our pleasure.” Ryoken assured him.

  He reached out to Yusaku and cupped his hands whilst kissing his cheek. Yusaku smiled but he glanced towards Spectre who was trying his best to blend in with the cityscape behind him. He was holding onto a small box and had a cloth tote bag slung over his shoulders.

   Ryoken pulled back and Yusaku stepped aside. He let both his partners inside and he felt a flush of embarrassment regarding his apartment given how basic it was. To say nothing of the great big cracks in the walls and other flaws but neither Ryoken nor Spectre ever said a bad word about it. They merely came inside and made themselves at home.

   Spectre placed the tote bag on the counter and Yusaku curiously approached. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a magic item inside of it to make him and Spectre get along better was inside of it but from just a sneak peak, all Yusaku could really see was the ingredients to make curry. However, they were very premium ingredients.

   “How mild or spicy do you like your curry?” Spectre asked since Yusaku had taken interest; he was still holding onto that little box.

   “I don’t really care.” Yusaku said, shrugging. “Surprise me.”

   “Okay then.” Spectre said and his hand clenched slightly.

   Ryoken, who had sat down at the table as Yusaku had meagrely put out a pitcher of cold water and cups, cleared his throat. Spectre made an annoyed noise.

   “I have something for you as well.” Spectre said and his expression was difficult to read. “Here.”

   He shoved the box into Yusaku’s possession and he blinked.

   “For you.” Spectre clarified.

   “Okay then.” Yusaku replied and he decided he wanted to sit down to open the box which, now that it was in his hands, looked bigger than before and the contents was emptier than he imagined.

   They were all sitting at the table now; Spectre sat with Ryoken, who had an arm around Spectre, cuddly, and Yusaku sat across from both. He had set the box down and began to undo the bow atop of it. It wasn’t gift wrapped, it just so happened to have a fancy, mint green facade to it and was donned with a translucent yellowy-coloured ribbon. He pulled it apart and took the lid off the box.

   Spectre watched very intently as Yusaku did this. His stare was stern and in total contrast to how playfully Ryoken watched him. Ryoken, meanwhile, had a smirk like a cat on his face and both made Yusaku feel a grand pressure to like whatever was in the box. He reached in and he wasn’t entirely sure what he pulled out. 

   There were three of them, though. All made from terracotta but were in the shape of little animals: a cat, a goat, and a hedgehog. They were cute but useless, Yusaku thought as he inspected the goat. He noticed it had a hole in its back and the hole was filled with something dark that he didn’t recognise inside of a crinkly, whitish sachet.

   “What are they?” he asked.

   “Chia pets.” Ryoken stated simply. “It means he likes you.”

   “I don’t really get it…” Yusaku murmured as he set down the goat with a clink in favour of looking at the cat. Though, knowing it was likely seeds inside of those sachets inside of the little terracotta animals did make slightly more sense.

   “They represent us.” Spectre murmured. “You’re the cat, I’m the goat, and Ryoken-sama is the hedgehog. When Ryoken-sama and I were little, he gave me some chia pets and I still have them. They are very beloved to me and my collection of plants. Ryoken-sama thought it would be a good idea if I shared that with you and I agreed. Good things come in threes with you two, don’t they?”

   “Oh.” Yusaku mumbled and he surprised himself by getting misty eyed at hearing that. The way he was holding onto the cat shaped chia pet changed, it now had a very treasured purpose to it. He couldn’t be flippant with such a precious gift now, could he?

   Ryoken smiled, pleased with himself.

   “I’m still getting my bearings with all of this. I apologise if we haven’t been on the best of terms but that’s not my intention. But you are important to Ryoken-sama and therefore, important to me. I had a prior infatuation with you but I don’t want that, I want something more stable than that for you since you are very serious about Ryoken-sama and his feelings, otherwise I doubt you would have bothered with making peace with me.” Spectre stiltedly explained.

   “Thank you, Spectre, I appreciate your perspective,” Yusaku said, he knew the feeling well himself, he hadn’t wanted to let a similar idealisation of Ryoken get in the way either, he squeezed the little terracotta pot, “I’ll treasure them, I promise to take good care of them.”

   “You better,” Spectre pouted, “I’ll be very cross with you if you don’t.”

   Yusaku laughed and even Ryoken was amused but he did benevolently offer, “Stop teasing him, Spectre.” he said. “Why don’t we make dinner? I feel like lunch was ages ago now with all the shopping we did to prepare.”

   “Fine by me.” Spectre relented.

   Yusaku smiled and he petted the head of his cat-shaped chia pet. He was serious about taking good care of it and especially its friends, the goat and the hedgehog. He was looking forward to seeing them grow green and fuzzy with strands upon strands of sprouted chia. He would absolutely put his three, little pot plants in a place of honour, he wasn’t quite sure yet where that place of honour would be but he was going to find it. For now, he was quite drawn to allowing them to live at the end of his dining table as it did get a little bit of sunlight and was close to a source of water but he also wouldn’t mind putting them in his room, close to him always. Decisions, decisions but for now, he would simply get up and offer his assistance in the kitchen.

    Yusaku piped up with a rather dreamy expression, “I want to help, too.”

   “Good, it would be rude to make your guests do all your cooking after all.” Spectre sniped him.

   “Very true.” Ryoken agreed.

   Yusaku made an embarrassed noise but got up with both of his partners. It was strange but he could feel that something had shifted. He felt closer to Spectre and ergo, closer to Ryoken as well, given their bond. He hoped that meant for an end of the night with a kiss from them both as well as a delicious dinner that they all helped with. It made him oddly excited and both Ryoken and Spectre noticed and relished that slight adjustment, too. So, with a little bit of luck and care, maybe not too long into the future, they could try a chia pudding for dessert after another dinner at Yusaku’s place given that tonight had gone off without a seeming hitch.

[pigeontheoneandonly]

The Birthday

The Birthday

So here is a bittersweet little thing I wrote because Dragon Age won’t leave me alone this week.

NB: It is the year after the Kirkwall rebellion.  Anders and Briar Hawke are hiding out in Amaranthine, and Dae Tabris has, of course, put Anders to work, as if nothing at all amiss has occurred. Not having played either of those games in many years, I’m sure I’ve borked Anders’ voice.  Also, do not ask me about the early timeline; I think we all just do our best trying to reconcile Awakenings and DA2.

“We’re stopping here a moment.”  Daeroavain Tabris, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Hero of the Fifth Blight, and Arl of Amaranthine, pushed into the small shop just off the main square.  

Warden Anders trailed after him, lowering his hood as the door shut and cut off the steaming cold. Weak winter light filtered through the windows where the snow accumulation softened its edges.  “A toy shop?”

“It’s Wintermarch,” he said, as if that explained it.  He picked up a wooden soldier and scrutinized it, before setting it down and reaching for a bag of marbles.  

Anders glanced around the wares, awkward, and wishing they’d just get on with their errand, which was meeting with the city watch about some odd cattle killings they thought could be darkspawn.  “You have a nephew, or something?”

“Or something.” Distracted.  “You were a kid when they took you to the tower, right?”

“What?”  He blinked.  “Yes.  I was twelve.”

“Fuck.  I thought you were younger.  When did you know you were a mage?”

“That’s blunt.”

The look Dae gave him was pure exasperation.  “Two months underground, no baths and eating shit I don’t want to think about too hard, looking for that damn dwarf, and this is what you balk at?”

The Warden-Commander was one of the very few people in Thedas who could make Anders feel even slightly sheepish.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Eight.”

“Eight. That’s perfect.”  He held up a box emblazoned with an illustration of topsy-turvy glassware.  “Would you have liked an alchemy kit?”

Anders simply stared.  Dae looked at the box.  “No?”

“What are you on about?” he asked, patience running dry.

“I’m trying to buy a birthday gift for an eight-year-old mage.”  He tilted his head.  “Well, overwhelmingly likely a mage, in any case.”

“What, some kid trapped in the Circle?” It wasn’t that he thought child mages were undeserving. It was that he couldn’t imagine Dae knowing one well enough to undertake this errand.  The Circles were a mess these days, anyway.  Breaking down right and left.  It was what he’d wanted, but at the same time, somehow not.  Hawke had been right about that—nothing ever fell out the way you planned.  It just kept going.

Dae scoffed at that idea.  “You clearly haven’t met his mother, if you think she’d let him end up there.  She grew up luring templars to their deaths for kicks.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never introduced me to to this charming lady.”

“I would, if I had the faintest idea where she is.  You’d like her but she’d surely hate you.  You shouldn’t feel badly, though.  She hates everyone.”  He turned towards a shelf stacked with games, each piece carefully stained or painted. “A chess set is boring, right?”

“If she hates you, why are you buying her kid a gift?”

He smiled, to himself more than anything.  “Because she was one of my dearest friends.”

His brow furrowed. Verbal fencing wasn’t much like him, either.  “Come to think of it, how are you going to deliver this gift, if you don’t know where she is?”

“I’m not.”  

“That makes no sense.”

He shifted his weight, picking up a chess piece, contemplating it without really seeing it. “I’ve never met him.  His birthday would be sometime this month, so I just… get him something every year.”

“I don’t—”  Then he really saw Dae, staring down at the rook.  Oh.  Oh.

He put the piece back.  “Don’t think I don’t know how stupid it is.  There’s… simply not anything else I can do.”

Standing in the middle of the shop, comparing various toys and hunched in on himself with a feigned nonchalance so unlike him, Dae didn’t look so much like any of the things he actually was.  Just a shorter than average elf in worn armor and mud on his boots, staring down a hopeless task.

Dae backed him against the templars when they first met.  Barely knew him, no questions asked, just handed him a permanent way out. Like it was nothing.  He mentioned the dumb story about Mr. Wiggums, exceptionally careful to not make a big deal of how he was his only real friend and how hard it was to lose him, and the next thing he knew Dae somehow found a kitten and told him to take care of it, as if it were a big favor.  Come to that, he never saw him angrier than when he got back from being frog-marched to Weisshaupt after years of avoiding it, only to find the stand-in they sent had made Anders give him up.

When he and Briar fled Kirkwall, not a friend left in the world and and any number of people wanting them dead, Dae welcomed him back like he’d never left, greeted Hawke like an old friend, and stated flat out that the templars hadn’t managed to take the Keep yet but they were welcome to try.

“Here,” he said, pulling down something from an adjacent display.  “It’s a whirligig.  Stomp on the pedal, here, and some kind of clockwork makes it fly.  I think he’d like that.”

[amarmeme]

Fic Recommendations

The @black-emporium-exchange is filled to the brim with wonderful stories and art for delicious rare pairs. This year I tried to read as much as possible, but I know there is still much to dive into over the weeks ahead. Here are my favorites so far from the overall collection, which I highly recommend you peruse. 

A Marriage of Convenience by @hollyand-writes What can I say other than brilliant? A Merrill/Carver Hawke longfic that focuses on a modern-day Kirkwall and a marriage of convenience. This story really has everything you could want (action, romance, smut, politicking, Carver in a tux) and more. This was one of my gifts and I was beyond thrilled. 

Something Just Like This by @theneras-la-lath A Bethany Hawke/Alistair Wardens fic that focuses on their relationship from when they met to Inquisition, where Alistair is wanted as a fugitive. Beautifully done with mutual pining, awkward moments and a strong Bethany. Another gift that made me so happy. 

The Real Treasure Was The Skeletons We Fought Along The Way by sunspot This Varric Tethras/Lace Harding story made me chuckle and grin. I’m certain you’ll enjoy this short treat, which is filled with humor and cheer. These two are adorable together. This was another gift that I adored. 

in all the years of struggle it seems we’re making way by gamerfic This fic is fab, and I knew it was gamerfic as soon as I started. Focusing on Female Lavellan/Felassan in a universe where Felassan isn’t outright killed after the events of The Masked Empire, but made Tranquil. Lavellan drags Cassandra along to fix that wrong, for some, not-so-straightforward reasons. GIVE IT A GO!

there’s no place like home by @coaxionunlimited A pairing I’ve never read before, this story centers on Female Aeducan/Female Brosca. This was like magic, I felt captivated and eagerly ate every word. I love exploring what would have happened to the other Origins if Duncan had not arrived, and this was delightfully done. 

My Vow to You by @tejaswrites This is packed to the brim with lore and worldbuilding for the Avvar. A Skywatcher/Female Trevelyan wedding day story that captivated me.

Someone in Another Time by @mythawrites This is a joy. Cassandra/Female Trevelyan story in which we have some time divergence at play. I don’t want to give anything away, but the warmth at the end fills me with autumn light. Lovely. Go read. 

Second Chances by Toshi_Nama Really full story featuring Female Hawke/Cullen Rutherford stuffed with angst and love. Bonus Cass & Cullen as the best BROTP. This is something that hits just right.

Foregone by Prix  I never imagined loving Alistair/Morrigan, but this was fantastic. An exploration of their relationship from first meeting all the way through the Dark Ritual and beyond. GO read. 

There are so many more stories, but this is already so long. Go check out the collection and give some love to these writers. Rare pairs are really where it is at! 

[gilly-jilly]

Of Thoughts and Eccentricities

My final secret santa gift for the lovely @markihost. You were awesome dude!! Have a little one-shot of your faves ;)

Egos featured: Yancy, The Host, Wilford Warfstache

Yancy couldn’t sleep.

It was nice of the Ipliers to offer him a place to stay, really it was, but he’d be lying if he said he wanted to be anywhere but the penitentiary. Hell, it’s been years since he’s been around anyone that wasn’t from Happy Trails, so to suddenly find himself in the company of such…eccentric people has been a bit of a culture shock. He felt out of place more than ever.

Not that it was their fault, of course. He just knew where he belonged is all, and it definitely wasn’t here. Or so he told himself.

Raging thoughts like these is why he found himself scavenging through the Ipliers’ fridge at two in the morning. He was in desperate need of a distraction, and as much as the cigarette box on his shoulder was burning for attention, The Warden was constantly up his ass about his bad habit, specifically how rank it made his clothes smell. Yancy was trying to better himself anyways, so quitting was just another step in the right direction. Plus, it would finally get The Warden off of his back. It was a win for everyone.

Yancy hums to the melody of I Don’t Wanna Be Free as he shuffles through different food choices, altering between humming and muttering the lyrics to himself.

Da da da da be free

Da da in luxury

Spotting a can of corn in the back, he makes a noise of affirmation and reaches for it, twirling around to slam the fridge shut with the back of his heel. Already he can feel himself relaxing as the familiar tune spills past his lips, tapping his fingers onto the counter as he fishes for a spoon out of the drawer. The lyrics begin to bubble up in his throat as he loses himself in the song.

Why try a prison break-

He pauses to sing into the spoon like a microphone.

-when hard time is totally great!

He begins to slide back and forth along the kitchen floor as he combines a bunch of different dance moves, continuing the song in a makeshift performance of his own. The room is filled with the sounds of his clacking feet and cheery singing voice, and Yancy feels his heart swell as he imagines himself dancing alongside his fellow inmates.

He rolls the can of corn along his arm and behind his back to the other before tossing it into the air, trying to finish the song with some flare.

Cause I don’t wanna be-!

Yancy spins on his heel and finds The Host standing in the doorway, watching him silently. He lets out a high-pitched scream as his spoon clatters to the floor, then grunts as his previously thrown can of corn smacks him on the top of his head. The Host hides an amused smile at the sight.

Yancy clutches at his heart dramatically. “Jesus! Youse trying to give me a heart attack over here?” he wheezes.

The Host has enough decency to look sheepish. “Forgive The Host,” he says modestly, scratching at his bandages absentmindedly. “He didn’t mean to startle you.” He pauses for a beat, the corner of his lips twitching. “Or interrupt your performance.”

Yancy chokes as he feels the heat rising to his cheeks. Hundreds of performances perfectly choreographed to leave any onlookers speechless, and the makeshift one that he screws up in the middle of the kitchen is the one that this guy sees. Bam Bam would be so disappointed. Trying to shake off his embarrassment and slightly bruised pride, he blows a raspberry and gives The Host a wary smile. “Nah, s’fine!” he exclaims, waving dismissively at him. “Didn’t even scare me! I’s got nerves of steel, you know.”

The Host hums in reply, noting the obvious lie but choosing not to mention it. “Clearly.” 

The two fell silent as they stand in awkward silence, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Both are unsure of what to say to each other after that.

Yancy rubs absentmindedly at his arm tattoo, feeling it begin to itch. He has…mixed feelings about The Host. Sure, the doc said that he was a nice guy once you got to know him, but there was just something about him that really rubbed Yancy the wrong way. The hairs on the back of his neck always tingled when he was around him, his body breaking out in goosebumps and leaving a sinking feeling in his stomach. At times, it was like he could feel the air shifting around the guy as he stepped into the room, almost as if it was trying to adapt to his strange presence. Or as if he was altering the air himself with his narrations.

Still, Yancy knew better than anyone not to judge a book by its cover. He was far from perfect by any means, so the least he could do was give the guy a chance. Who knows? Maybe he had a soft side underneath all of the blood and creepy mutterings.

Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Yancy tries to make small talk by asking, “So uh, watcha up to?”

The Host quirks an eyebrow, giving what Yancy assumed was his version of a deadpan stare. “Getting a snack. The Host reminds Yancy that this is the kitchen, after all.”

Yancy has the sudden urge to lie on the floor and curl up into a ball at his response, but instead, he smacks his forehead and forces out a chuckle. “Right!” he says a little bit too enthusiastically. “This is- a course! Why else would youse- shucks. Ain’t I just a dingus.” Yancy begins to sweat nervously as The Host remains silent. Wanting to get as far away from this conversation as possible, he snaps and shoots him some finger guns as he shuffles his way out of the kitchen, hoping that he gets the hint. “I’ll leave youse to it then.”

Before The Host has a chance to bid him goodnight, Yancy is bolting out of the kitchen with a salute, not even bothering to pick up his abandoned spoon and can of corn. He makes it to his room and swings the door open, going to slam it with the same ferocity before he realizes that it’s the middle of the night. He closes it with a soft click instead and taps his forehead against the wood, sighing irritably. “Stupid,” he mutters.

The awkwardness of the interaction has his mind wandering back to Happy Trails, wishing more than anything that he could be with the boys and girls. He’d never had this much trouble talking to them. If anything, they got sick of him constantly talking their ears off, but with the Ipliers he had no idea how to go about having a conversation. They were all so bizarre and eccentric. Half of the time he felt like he wasn’t talking to people.

He was at his limit here. He just wanted to go home. Maybe he’d ask if he can leave in the morning…

“Real smooth, tiger,” a voice to his left drawled.

Yancy immediately tenses and spins towards the intruder, fists raised, only to come face to face with Wilford leaning casually against the wall. The ego has a smoothie in hand with a pink umbrella and swirly straw, and he takes a long, obnoxious sip as he keeps direct eye contact with Yancy. Said ego is completely speechless.

Yancy breaks eye contact to look him up and down, immediately regretting his decision as he notices that Wilford isn’t wearing any pants. How the hell did he even get in here?

As Yancy’s brain fruitlessly tries to comprehend the fact that this man is in his room, with a smoothie, and in nothing but his underwear, Wilford’s lips leave the straw with a loud pop. “Want a sip? You seem tense after that disaster of a conversation.” He gives his eyebrows a devious wiggle as he practically shoves the drink in Yancy’s face, to which the man cringes away from. “It’s got a special ingredient that’s sure to drive your troubles away…vodka!”

Seconds pass in silence, Yancy’s internal dialogue racing at a mile a minute with a variety of colorful words that he wishes to scream at the man in front of him, but all he manages is an airy, “Uh, no thanks” in reply. Wilford shrugs with a nonchalant “Your loss” before tossing the straw aside and downing the rest of the concoction in a single gulp, throwing the glass over his shoulder once he’s finished. The sound of shattering glass never comes.

“Good chatting with you, friend!” Wilford suddenly bellows, giving Yancy a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Goodnight!” He gives a wink and poofs out of existence with the sound of a party popper, a cloud of glitter being left in his wake.

Yancy blinks slowly as he stares at the empty space where Wilford stood. Then, he rolls out the box from his sleeve, snaps open his lighter, lights a cigarette, and takes in a looooong deep drag that soon dissipates into the air.

To hell with The Warden’s chastising.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine sweet moment before John Willie and Murthagh came to diner. Some romantic scene …

Here is a quiet missing moment from the episode where Jamie meets his son Willie for the first time (4x06). I hope that this fits the bill, anon. 

❤️ Katy

If asked to swear (hand upon Bible, before God or a Court of Law), I would be able to say two things about John Grey.  

First, John Grey was a preternaturally handsome enigma.  

Second, my husband’s friendship with the man baffled me utterly.  I knew of Jamie’s appreciation of John’s inclination towards self-sacrifice and honor early in life. They were traits exhibited in abundance one night when John attacked my husband. (After his botched attack, a soft-faced, virginal John fell prey to Jamie’s manufactured threat to ravage a True English Rose.  Over the years, we had often laughed about the situation –– the frightened look in the eyes of a young man, no a child, Jamie’s extraction of information through sleight of hand manufactured by my decision to barge into the interrogation, the way John could laugh of it now.)

I also grasped (though failed to understand) Jamie’s sense of obligation and friendship arising from John’s decision to commit Jamie to serve Hellwater instead of into some other form of indentured servitude.  

(The quietness in Murtagh about those missing years were the only thing that helped me see how Jamie gleaned some appreciation for the arrangement, notwithstanding the horrible things that happened while he was there.  Chief among them, the circumstances surrounding the conception and loss of yet another child, Jamie’s taking of yet another life even in the service of saving a son he would hardly know.)

But then there was Ardsmuir.  The man was my husband’s jailer.  Although things certainly could have been worse for Jamie, my husband had bartered his companionship for the lesser incidents of humanity and scraps of subsistence from John.  Medical attention in exchange for another prisoner a token offered for Jamie’s companionship over pot roast and chess. (Though he drew the line at losing his Queen to appease John.)  A holding of court in the warden’s chambers over the need for blankets and explaining with startling calm (according to him) the prisoners’ needs for nutrition from some source other than the meat of rodents infesting the prison. But what John gave (what he was able to give) consisted of hardly more than meager scraps. John was still cloaked in red, a man designated to administer the Jacobites’ punishment for the mere exercise of seeking self determination.

I also could see from this young boy (a son) that Jamie had a well of appreciation that he was raised well.  Comfortable.  Not on the run.

Despite all of this confusion over their friendship, I had to give John credit.

He could read a room.  

John.  Murtagh.  Jamie.  Me.  Willie.  

(Oh.  Willie.  The conversation in the print shop, the tremble in Jamie’s hands as he passed me the pocket-sized portrait of a son he would never raise. The son who he entrusted to his jailer.  “An honorable man,” Jamie had asserted then.)  

No, it was not the Willie in the printshop portrait that stood in my home. 

It was William.

Everyone, save the child, felt it.  

The way he was clay made half of Jamie’s body and half of someone else.  

There was talk of dinner.  

Of stretching the rabbit stew that I had meant for just the three of us –– Jamie, Murtagh, me –– to cover the Lords Grey and Ellsmere.  

Our conversation faded into nothing. 

The dead space between words became static.  

The moments between topics buzzed with awkwardness.  

Talking became impossible because secrets pressed against lips, and speaking (even a breath) would let them break free from a dam, to flood the earth between us. Certain truths were shared only among a sampling of the company.  Chief among them, the paternity of the small boy in his ostentatious, silky breeks the color of emeralds and coat of crushed sapphire with broad brass buttons.  

In the static, Jamie turned to the fire, touched the mantle, bowed his head.

“Jamie…” I started, turning to him and stopping mid-step as tension tightened in his shoulders.

And at that, John had cleared his throat and taken William by the shoulder. “It’s best that we go tend to our horses, William.”

And in that moment, I found a certain unlikely appreciation for John Grey.

His transition out of the static was so natural.  

A diversion spoken in a way that would have made me hug him in any other circumstances.  

(Had I liked him more. Had I not developed, unbidden, a hot seed of hatred deep in my womb for him the moment I crossed the threshold of my home to see him standing before my hearth with my husband. Had I not had my hand on his son’s shoulder.  John’s son’s shoulder.  Jamie’s son’s shoulder.  Not my son’s shoulder.  Had it not been for the sand trap of disappointment opened beneath my feet, sucking me down for the things that I had missed, that I could not control.)

With a grumble about something or another, Murtagh also excused himself.

And I was again alone with Jamie, the shutters closing me off from a line of sight into his mood.  Nothing cast light onto the corners of thought where the feelings dwelled.  

“Are you… okay?”  My voice skipped, a stone glancing across placid surface of water, having no idea the best approach.

Though he shook his head, he did not say a word. Dropping his hands and turning from the hearth, he simply muttered that he was going to change into more suitable dinner attire.

Having no sense of what to do, other than to be near, I mumbled that I would slip into something else, too.  It was there, near our bed, where something about him broke me.  

Perhaps it was the quiver in his hands as he reached to the neckline of his shirt, stiff fingers worrying the fabric before he pulled it up and over his head (the sweat and dirt and grime of the labor he poured into making the Ridge our home made it soft and grey).

Perhaps it was the way he had discarded his usual tidiness, allowing his shirt to fall to the floor with a heavy thwap.  

Perhaps it was how he undid his breeks, but did not push them off of his hips. As though he had been distracted by some more pressing thought (his fingers all but trembling as he settled his hands at his hips and stared past me, through walls, towards unseeable horizon).

Perhaps it was the hitch of his breath as he sat at the edge of our bed (where that morning he had taken his time with my body, made love to me so tenderly, so slowly, that I had wondered if the basalt wheels of time at the center of the earth were grinding to a halt, his mouth swallowing the moans created by his labor before they could be eaten by the walls created by his labor).  The ropes (drawn tight) holding the mattress up squeaked their protest beneath his weight, and he rested a hand on his stomach, like he was about to be ill.

Perhaps it was the distant burr of his mind working overtime, fingers flexing and relaxing into a fist before tapping away at the ridged arc of his muscular thigh.

(I knew the quietest parts of his mind, just as he knew mine.  And in the abundance of quiet moments captured not in the four corners of a photo album, but contained within the four corners of an eighteenth century cabin, I knew him better than ever.  I could see the rhythm of his children’s names beating like a drum in his head.  Faith.  Brianna.  Willie.  No.  William.  Names that would never belong to Jamie in the way that he longed for –– simply to hear their voices call out whatever iteration of “father” they so chose in childhood.)

Quietly, I gathered the supplies to clean the dirt of the day from his body and brought them to our bedside.

“Make room for me, my lad.”

He dutifully spread his knees to create a space for me, eyes focused on the small stool where I set a basin of warm water, two clean cloths, and a brush.  

I touched his face, only for a few moments, drawing his gaze back to me and up.  “Talk to me?  You know you can tell me whatever is in your mind.”

Sighing, he nuzzled his mouth to my palm. “Tell me about my daughter.  More, I mean.”

The request startled me, my eyebrows knitting together.  “But Willie––”

“Aye, Willie.”  

He stopped, shook his head as though he thought better of it.  (It struck me that my husband had never named a child, never conceived of the name that others would call to them.  He had given William the name James, but no one would speak it.)

“I’ll never ken Brianna.  Just as I dinna ken her sister.  He’s here.  Now.  I’ve laid eyes upon him.  But I’ll no’ ever have a dinner wi’ my daughters.”

Faith.

Somehow the single syllable of her name (a word meaning complete trust or confidence, a burden and gift of spiritual apprehension) knocking about in my mind was too much in the moment. He had said it more of late (her name, one that I gave her), and I found myself wondering how often he had thought of her in those twenty years.  In our separation, we lost the opportunity to carry one another’s grief, and it still made my heart ache, my stomach go unsettled.

But for this moment, another daughter. 

Brianna.

I dipped a corner of the cloth into the basin before wiping gently along his hairline, down his temple.  Cloth chased beads of grime as they rolled over his cheekbone.  And stories unraveled from my unconscious mind.  

Things that I did not know I remembered.

I explained that father and daughter had the same habit of peeling raw tomatoes, asserting rather baselessly I thought, that the flesh was more tender sans skin.  

I told him about a young Bree’s disgust for ice cubes in fizzy drinks because she said the cold made her teeth sing.  

The dance recital where she missed a step, had a tantrum, and stomped her small tap shoes on the lights lining the stage with such gusto that she sent sparks into the audience and made the recital devolve into some sort of apocalyptic chaos. 

The time my towel fell free in the kitchen as I tried to get her off to school, running madly late for work myself, and she asked me why I had a beard between my legs. 

The constant rotation of perpetually dying goldfish, my quiet ritual of sneaking into her room to steal away her “sleeping” fish and dispatch it down the toilet when she was not looking, only to replace it.  Her indignance when she said “I know what you are doing, mom!” in her most American accent at the age of five, my hands (guilty dead goldfish thieves) holding the bowl over the toilet.  

The speech she gave in sixth grade to The Optimist Club. The way she had said that her mother the healer inspired her (though we had fought in the car the entire way to the school), and her prize of a twenty dollar savings bond that she said she wanted to donate to a food pantry.  

I fell silent as I turned from his clean face, reached for the brush.  Though everything in my being was here with Jamie, without regret over my choice to return to him, my heart ached for the hole left by my daughter’s absence.

“I ken this is hard for ye,” he whispered softly, fingers catching mine as they worked through a stubborn tangle.

He drew my fingers to his mouth.  Swallowing, I whispered, “Don’t.” Tears were streaking down my face and when he reached to wipe them, I shook my head. “I love you, and you love him.”

We had missed so much.   I would not (could not) begrudge him for missing Willie.

After a time, his hair again laying in well-mannered waves along the back of his neck, ready for me to plait it and tie it there. “He was such a little Lord down by the stream.  You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh aye?” he asked.

Snorting, I recalled for him the scene that Murtagh and I had happened upon.  His son, glowering over some harmless leeches. The turn of his brows and grimace as I popped them free from his shins.  His hand found my hip, ran along the curve of it.  

“You look perfectly suitable for a dinner with Lord John and your little lord progeny.”

Snorting, he drew me closer by the hip, rested his face against my stomach.  “Ye dinna ken the blessing having ye here with me is.  I have all I need here in my own arms.”

I dropped to my knees in front of him, taking his cheeks in my hands as I inhaled the musk of him.  The odor of the man with whom I was building a life here in the middle of a great, blue-green forest.  “I have all I need, too.”

He kissed me then, slowly at first, but developing an intensity that made me burn although our company would surely return to us soon. It was over as soon as it began, leaving my swollen mouth breathless.

“I’ll owe ye,” he said quietly after pulling away, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.  “For cleaning me.  For pulling me back together afore we sit back down together wi’ John and Willie, Murtagh, too…”

I made a contemplative noise, rubbing the tender nub of my right knee as I rose from the hard floor.  “I’ll expect payment with interest.  Probably a full bath, a good buffing with the salt scrub that I made.”

With a failed wink, he nodded. “Ye can count on me taking my time wi’ a full bath later.”

[haledamage]

Pairing: Cait Cousland/Loghain Mac Tir

Story Summary: Word of a plot against Anora comes to light, and Cait Cousland and Loghain Mac Tir must go behind enemy lines to hunt down the source.

aka Cait and Loghain have to pretend to be married and attend a fancy Orlesian party. What could possibly go wrong?

Sequel to Yield though you don’t need to have read it to read this one. Rated E

“Good morning, Anora. Another bouquet of flowers arrived for you,” Cait called as she opened the door to the queen’s office. She hoped Anora was actually in there; she couldn’t see over the riot of flowers in her arms.

“They're lovely,” Anora replied unenthusiastically. Cait made her way in the vague direction of her voice. “Who are these from?”

She sat the vase down, the flowers covering the surface of the desk and hiding the mountains of paperwork that were probably on it. She pulled the card out of her jacket pocket and read it as dramatically as possible. “‘To the Radiant Anora Mac Tir, All flowers pale before your delicate beauty, but I hope they brighten your day just the same. Lord Otwin De Calis .’” She dropped the card onto Anora’s desk, to get lost among the rest of the chaos. “Should I know who that is? He sent me a bouquet too.”

“I'm not familiar with the name,” Anora said, appearing from behind an especially large pink rose. “What did your card say?”

“He said my beauty was mesmerizing . And something about my strength of character,” Cait rolled her eyes and dropped into an empty chair. “I think I'd rather be radiant.”

“At least he has a decent grasp of language.” Anora stood up to carry the flowers to the window to add them to her collection. There were over a dozen bouquets of various sizes and colors, all from hopeful suitors that seemed to think a bunch of roses would be enough to make them the next king of Ferelden.

Cait propped her feet up on the desk and watched her friend walk across the room and back, poised and controlled even after hours in this little room. “I suppose. Anyone who'd call you delicate doesn't know who they're dealing with.”

“Delicate next to you, maybe,” Anora said, eyes flashing with amusement. “I assume you've already sent replies?”

"Of course." Cait intoned in an expressionless voice, "Her Royal Highness and Chancellor Cousland are very flattered by your gift and your words, but completely uninterested. Try chocolates next time.”

“Good.” Anora pushed Cait’s boots off her desk and sat back down. “I received word from Warden-Commander Amell.”

That got the Warden’s attention and she sat up straight in her chair. “How’s Carah doing?”

“There may be a situation with the darkspawn in Amaranthine. She says she doesn’t need help at this time, but she’ll keep us updated.” Anora handed Cait the letter in question and she read over it quickly.

Once she’d handed the letter back, Cait slouched into her chair again. “Better her than me. I’ve got too many memories attached to Amaranthine. I’d rather be here.” Carah Amell was a natural-born leader and deserved every bit of praise and power they could give her. Cait only hoped that whoever she had helping her in Amaranthine knew more about politics than she did. Carah was a sweet girl; the bannorn would eat her alive if they could. “She’ll be a better Commander than I would be anyway. Patience of a saint, that one.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be killing darkspawn than glaring at politicians?”

Cait shrugged. “Nah. If I wanted the easy job, I’d have volunteered. I like it here, believe it or not.”

"Since you are here, I would like a word with you." Anora stared at her, inscrutable as always.

Cait grinned to hide her sudden unease. "Am I in trouble? Because it kind of sounds like I'm in trouble."

Anora laced her fingers together on her desk and said calmly, "When I requested you find a healthier way to spend your evenings than getting in bar fights, I did not mean to imply you should start having sex with my father."

Cait studied the queen, trying to read anything in her expression. She didn't seem angry, but beyond that she couldn't tell what she was thinking. Hoping she was reading this right, Cait kept her grin firmly in place and said cheekily, "You didn't explicitly tell me not to have sex with your father."

"I'll endeavor to be more specific in the future," Anora said dryly.

“Is this a problem, Anora?” Cait asked bluntly. She sat up straight again so she could lean forward over the desk and started gathering together a coherent argument in her mind, in case Anora tried to tell her to stop her relationship with Loghain. Could they even call it a relationship? An affair, maybe? Liaison?

Anora was still studying her, and Cait hoped her poker face was good enough. “That depends on you. What are your intentions with him?”

Cait started laughing. And then she kept laughing, until her sides hurt and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Anora just watched her stoically, patiently waiting for her friend to stop being so dramatic and answer the question. “I’m sorry, I just… I never thought I'd be on the receiving end of this kind of conversation.” Cait wiped the tears from her eyes and added, “We made it clear that we're not looking for anything serious. I'm not out to become your stepmother, if that's what you're worried about.”

Anora paused before quietly saying, “I'm worried about the opposite, actually. My father is a very loyal man. He does not do anything lightly.”

Cait watched her face for any kind of disapproval, but Anora looked as serious and unreadable as ever. “You're concerned that he's after a commitment and I'm just in it for a bit of fun.” She wondered how honest she should be. Anora seemed to just genuinely be interested, and since Carah and Leliana had left the city Cait was severely lacking in female friendships. But it was also Anora’s father that she was having ‘liaisons’ with.

Oh well. In for a copper, in for a crown. “I thought it might be the other way around, though now that I say it out loud it sounds stupid. Everything Loghain ever does is serious . He doesn’t know any other way to do anything.” She dropped her head to a clear space on the desk with a hollow thud. “He and I are a really good fit. Or we could be, if we decided to be. But I can't even get him to call me by my name when other people are around.”

Anora was quiet for a long time, but Cait stubbornly refused to look up and see the expression (or lack thereof) on her friend’s face. After an indeterminate amount of time, either seconds or hours, the queen simply said, “Perhaps I can help.”

She handed her a stack of papers as soon as she sat up again, and she flipped through them, trying to make sense of it. There were a lot of names she didn’t recognize and things written in very fancy filigree. “You lost me.”

“There are rumors of unrest in Orlais. Some courtiers seem to be upset that Empress Celene failed to acquire Ferelden after her plot with Cailan was interrupted." Anora didn't react to that, though her face went a little stonier. Cait sneered on behalf of both of them. "One of these lords, a Duke Dubost, seems to think he'll gain support if he succeeds where she failed. He seeks to supplant me, either by force or by marriage. And since I do not intend to remarry, not now and maybe not ever, it is only a matter of time before he tries something.”

Anora shuffled through the papers until she found the one she was looking for, and pulled a very fancy gilded party invitation to the front. “He is holding a fete at his estate in Jader and I would like you to attend. Find what he's planning and stop it.”

Cait could just imagine how well that would go. The Orlesians were sure to be very accommodating to the blighted Hero of Ferelden. “I'm behind you completely, you know that, but if I walk in there, everyone will either run screaming for the hills or fill me full of arrows.”

The look Anora gave her reminded her of the ones her mother used to give her, when she said something very stupid and Mother was too polite to tell her so. “That is why you will not be going as yourself.” Another shuffling of papers to bring a new one to the top, filled with Anora’s elegant handwriting. “You are Lady Adela Roth, a minor noble from near Highever. You were invited because your cousin, Elena, is married to the youngest son of a marquise, making you technically a noble in both Ferelden and Orlais. You said your Orlesian friend taught you some of the Game, yes?”

“Yes. Bardic basics, at the very least. Don't know that I'm ready for this , though.” Cait was pretty sure Leliana’s exact words were ‘if you keep punching every lord that insults you, there will be no chevaliers left without broken noses.’ Probably best to keep that to herself. “And what does this have to do with Loghain?”

More papers shuffling. “He is your husband, Lord Christoph Roth.” Anora paused, waiting for Cait to refuse, maybe. When she didn’t, she continued, “I did not feel comfortable sending you in alone, and as you said yourself, you work well together.”

Cait had a lot of questions, but she didn’t know where to start and doubted Anora would answer most of them. She liked to be cryptic, a trait Cait found equally frustrating in both Mac Tirs. “Did you ask about my relationship with your father out of genuine concern, or did you just want to make sure we wouldn't be too awkward on your mission?”

“I don't see why it can't be both. You leave in four days. I've already taken the liberty of having some dresses made for you.” Anora sat back in her chair, apparently taking Cait’s lack of dissent as approval. Maybe it was; Anora’s plan was foolproof, and probably even Cait-proof. She couldn’t think of a way to refuse without just seeming childish.

Business concluded, the stern expression on the queen’s face faded into a small, sympathetic smile. “Some time away will do you good. Who knows, maybe spending a week pretending to be a married couple will give you and Father a chance to work a few things out.”

Cait knew that Anora meant well, but when she put it like that, it just sounded like a threat.

-------

Loghain was having a good day, which, for him, mostly meant a quiet day. He spent the day in his room, at his desk, answering letters. Some of them had been there for weeks, waiting for him to find time to reply, but even if he was no longer a teryn or a general, work kept piling up just the same. No messengers came to his door with news of a new fire he needed to put out and the only sound was the scratch of his quill and the cold wind whistling through the half-open window.

He should have known it was too good to last.

Three terse, loud knocks on his door broke his mid-afternoon solitude. He tried not to growl at whomever was on the other side. "What is it?"

Cait breezed into the room like she belonged there, kicking the door shut behind her and moving through the space with her easy, thoughtless grace. She'd never been in his room before; until this moment, Loghain didn't know she knew where his room was.

She was in one of those Nevarran-style suits she was so fond of, with their high collars and thousands of tiny buttons, her hair in a neat braid and, near as he could tell, she was unarmed except for a stack of papers. Probably, that meant she was here on business.

"Warden," he greeted because he liked the face she made when he did.

"How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?" Cait asked, making a face like she'd just bitten into a lemon. Without waiting for a reply, likely because she knew she wouldn't get one, she added, "Are you in the middle of anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait. What is it?"

She looked around for a place to sit and, finding no other chairs, sat down on the edge of his bed. She held out the stack of papers she'd brought with her. "Anora has some work for us."

He flipped through the pages, skimming over the words to try to put together the story. "She wants us to pose as a married couple to infiltrate a party in Orlais and stop a plot to overthrow her rule."

"You caught on a lot faster than I did." Loghain couldn't tell if the wide smile on her face was from nerves or excitement. Probably both, knowing her. "We leave in four days. Take a carriage there, snoop around for a while, come home with the evidence we need. Easy as lying."

"I see," he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, "and Anora sent you to tell me in hopes of softening the blow?"

Cait laughed, a warm, throaty chuckle. "Is that what I do now? Here I thought it was my job to make your life more difficult." Her eyes were as warm as her voice, but much sharper, seeing through his attempts at stoicism. "I know we're asking a lot of you. She's asking a lot of us , really. If you don't want to do it, I won't push."

"And what happens if I refuse?" he asked. Spending any time playing nice with Orlesians was pretty high on his list of worst nightmares. Judging by the way neither Cait nor Anora were ordering him to do this, Loghain assumed they were aware of that.

"I don't know," she said plainly, shrugging one shoulder. "Maybe she sends me alone. Maybe she finds me a new Lord Roth. Maybe she replaces us both. It needs doing no matter what." She paused, still watching him. Her stare was like a physical touch, and could make him feel underdressed even in full armor. Finally, quiet and honest, Cait added, "I'd prefer it's you."

"Hmm. And why is that?" Loghain knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it - or the excuse she made instead.

"We work well together." Her lips curled in a sly, private smile. "You know we do. If I have to go to Orlais, I want to do it with someone I know I can trust. And Anora must have chosen us for good reason."

She was probably right. His daughter was not the type to throw her greatest supporters to the wolves. She was also not the type to have only one motive behind anything she did; life was a game of chess for Anora, and they’d just have to hope that they weren’t being cast as pawns.

Cait held his gaze unblinking, not quite a challenge but close. When she looked away, it didn't feel so much like a surrender as it was a mercy. There was something she wasn't saying, but he tried not to make any assumptions. She was not in the habit of keeping secrets. If she wasn't talking it was because she wasn't ready to.

"I'll do it," he said, as if there was ever really any doubt.

Her face lit up with a pure, joyful smile that hit him like a suckerpunch and he regretted his decision immediately. "Good. We leave in four days, as I said before. Anora is providing us with clothing, but the rest is up to us. We'll make our way to Highever first, then take a more discrete carriage from there."

There was nothing he needed to add to that, so he just nodded.

Cait nodded too and slid off the bed. "I'll let you get back to your work, then."

She hovered for just a moment more. She looked like she wanted to say something, or was waiting for him to. But she didn't, and neither did he, and then she left as quickly as she'd arrived.

The room was cold with her gone, and too quiet. Her perfume lingered in the air and on his sheets from the handful of minutes she'd spent on his bed. Sleep tonight was going to be impossible.

He struggled to remind himself to think of her as the Warden. To maintain that careful distance between them. That distance closed a little more with every moment spent with her, and every day it got harder to remember why he thought he needed it.

Loghain had not loved many people in his life, and all of them were dead now except his daughter. But the Warden-- Cait --she was Celia’s ferocity and Rowan’s grace and Maric’s charisma all wrapped in wildfire and he knew if he fell for her he wouldn’t survive the impact.

A week in her constant company would probably kill him.

He turned back to his desk, but just stared unseeing at the blank page in front of him. He couldn't concentrate to write anymore, his focus chased away by easy laughter and storm-colored eyes and the scent of summer flowers. With a frustrated growl, he stormed out of the room to find something else to occupy his thoughts.

[kagetsukai]

Drops of Satina: Day 16 - Blessings

Raphael and Lily Trevelyan belong to @out-of-the-embers. Thank you so much for helping me with this prompt!!! The name of the nobleman was concocted by @shannaraisles, who is forever the best ever?

Words: 2,767 || Read on AO3

Summons to the Inquisitor’s quarters came as a surprise and put Hannah in a state of mild panic. She had never truly spoken with the Inquisitor - most of her communication being handled by either Commander Cullen or, occasionally, Lady Montilyet - so the fact that she was going to have a direct conversation made her worry. In her past job experience, any time The Big Boss wanted to chat with her, it meant immediate termination and a need to look for a new job. With a heavy dread in her heart, Hannah put away her work, locked everything up and slowly made her way towards the Inquisitor’s tower.

Whatever she had expected to find at the top of the seemingly endless staircase was not what she found; the room was as large and splendid as Hannah remembered, but instead of obvious opulence it was tastefully decorated with practical furniture and multiple bookshelves. A large desk sat on the opposite side of the room and the Inquisitor stood up and moved around it the moment Hannah stepped past the balustrade

“Hannah!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Hannah dipped into a courtesy and frowned a little.

“You have formally summoned me, Inquisitor,” she pointed out. “I could not refuse.”

Lily frowned and hummed. “That… is a good point,” she said. “Either way, I’m happy to finally get to talk to you. And please, call me Lily. I don’t want to be so formal when we’re about to have tea.”

Hannah stared at the woman, confused.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Yes, tea,” Lily replied with a shaky grin and pointed to a fancy couch that Hannah hadn’t noticed before - there was a table before it, ladened with food and drink. “I was gifted some black currant tea and I thought that maybe you’d like to share it with me?”

A multitude of questions crowded in Hannah’s head, one more insistent than the other. While she no longer thought she wasn’t going to get fired from her position, she still had no idea what was going on. Just to be on the safe side, she decided to play along.

“I must admit, I’ve never had black currant in my tea,” Hannah said carefully. “But I’m always interested in new food experiences.”

“Excellent,” Lily said and directed Hannah to sit down. “Shall we get to it then?”

Once they sat down, Lily went about pouring out some tea into their two cups and offered sugar and milk to go with it. Then she offered the little sandwiches and scones and cookies that sat neatly arranged on fancy porcelain plates. Hannah was surprised, because those were the kinds of things that were left for servants to do and not the most powerful woman in Thedas. Still, she held her tongue. For her part, Lily looked extremely tense. Hannah noted the stiff posture, the fingers idly picking at the nails, and the slight frown between the brows that reminded her of Raphael. Something was going on, that was for sure.

“I guess I should tell you why I asked you here today,” Lily intoned. Hannah nodded, but said nothing. “For some time now I’ve been hearing rumors of how certain members of the Inquisitions treat you and I have to say that I never condoned it and I am sorry you had to put up with it.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes.

“I had sent Master Wardell to the Exalted Plains as a test,” Lily continued. “He was supposed to go on site and repair a bridge in the area. Not only he failed to give me anything beyond a few planks tossed across a gap, but he belittled my intelligence when I questioned his actions. When I asked why he couldn’t build me a bridge like the one in Emprise du Lion, he immediately got defensive and angry. Do you know why?”

Of course Hannah knew why Wardell would be unable to replicate the bridge in Emprise du Lion, but she also knew she could never say it out loud. She didn’t have to.

“I think he wasn’t the one who had designed that bridge,” Lily said and finally looked directly at Hannah. There was steel in those gentle brown eyes as she continued to speak. “I think it was you who did it, which is even more impressive because you had to have done it sight-unseen. Which means you should be the one who’s in charge of our engineering team.”

This was getting to be too much so Hannah set down her tea cup before she spilled any liquid.

“Inquisitor,” she said and paused. “Lily,” she corrected herself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Master Wardell--”

“Is no longer employed by the Inquisition,” Lily finished.

A dragon could have landed between them and it would have shocked Hannah less than the words she just heard. She kept staring at Lily, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” she asked weakly.

“Master Wardell is gone. I have no patience for men who disrespect women just because they’re women,” Lily said evenly. “Which means the position of Chief Engineer is open and it would bring me great joy and satisfaction if you agreed to take it.”

Words formed at the tip of her tongue, but no matter how hard she tried, Hannah couldn’t make a sound. The fact that the bane of her existence would no longer make her life unbearable brought on such vivid relief, she actually felt her body uncoil from the stress she didn’t know she had been carrying. Then the full meaning of it all hit and her eyes widened.

“Wait, you mean--” She paused, suddenly overcome with emotions. “I’d be making all of the decisions? Officially?”

Lily smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes,” she simply said. “Will you accept the offer?”

“Yes!” Hannah immediately agreed before Lily changed her mind. She had worked her entire life to get to this point and she wasn’t going to let doubt get in her way. “I accept.”

It was such a happy feeling to know that for the first time in her life, Hannah was being recognized and rewarded for her hard work. Even when she had a commission with Queen Anora, her position was largely in name only and had been given to her as an appeasement to Warden Tara Cousland. If this thing with the Inquisition went well, Hannah would be able to finally have enough influence to force the College of Engineers to accept her among them and give her the title of “Master”.

“You’ll be taking over Wardell’s office, of course,” Lily continued. “His men arrived earlier today and have been packing everything, but once they’re done, the space is yours.”

No more crowded spaces with multiple people shuffling about and breaking her concentration, Hannah realized. She wouldn’t have to lock up her desk every time she had to step away, either. All of this information was so good, Hannah was having a hard time keeping her emotions contained.

“Thank you. You will not be disappointed,” she whispered. “This means so much to me. A lot more than you could ever imagine.”

A soft blush tinted Lily’s face as she smiled wider, clearly pleased with herself.

“I’m glad,” she said and her brows furrowed again. Something else was clearly on Lily’s mind, because she shifted in her seat and sighed deeply. “I am very sorry I didn’t realize what had been going on. If it hadn’t been for Raffy, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

Hannah blinked. “Raffy?” There were so many implications and her mind tried to consider all of them at once, creating a cacophony of thought that threatened to overwhelm her.

“He talks about you a lot, you know,” Lily offered and chuckled. “Won’t shut up, really. I feel like I already know you really well just by the stories he’s told me over the past few months.” She paused and looked down at her hands; the quiet guilt that radiated from her made Hannah frown even more. “He’s been through so much, so seeing him be so happy with you…” Lily looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m glad he’s found you, that is all.”

A familiar sort of pain swelled in Hannah’s chest as she tried to work through her emotions. It should have annoyed her that it took Raphael’s intervention to get others to respect her, but she felt grateful instead. She finally had someone in her life who was willing to fight for her and had her back - and that was invaluable. The fact he also made her incredibly happy was just a lovely side-effect.

“I’m glad, too,” she said and felt herself blush a little.

Lily kept looking at her, eyes slightly sad and distant, as if she was trying to figure out Hannah’s innermost thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

Hannah nodded. “Of course.”

“What are your intentions towards Raffy?”

Perhaps she should have known this question would come up, since their conversation had turned to such personal topics, but it still made her gape at Lily in surprise. How could she answer when she didn’t understand her own feels just yet?

“Intentions?” she said slowly. “I don’t have intentions towards Raphael. If I’m to be honest, most days I’m surprised he wants to be around me to begin with.”

Lily nodded, though she didn’t seem convinced.

“I get it - I think,” she said, then frowned. “I’m sorry. I know I’m probably coming off rude, but I can’t help worry about his well-being. The last thing I want is to watch him get his heart broken.”

Oh. It all suddenly made sense and Hannah felt herself relax. She smiled a little and felt her cooling blush return in full force.

“If that’s the case,” she said, “I can tell you one thing for sure: I don’t know what the future holds, or if we’re meant to stay together, but it’s not my intent to hurt Raphael in any way, shape, or form. I care about him very much.”

The words felt like a love confession in Hannah’s mouth, and she felt terribly embarrassed that she let herself speak so freely, but it seemed to have the desired effect: Lily’s body relaxed visibly and a small smile graced her face.

“And I’m glad to hear that,” Lily said.

Silence returned between them. It felt a little awkward to sit with Raphael’s cousin and discuss Hannah’s feelings for him, so to cover her embarrassment she reached for her tea cup again and grabbed a plate with sandwiches. Lily followed suit and they were soon engrossed in their own thoughts.

The first one to break their silence was Lily.

“So I heard you had a bit of trouble with a nobleman the other day,” she said in a casual tone. “Does that happen often?”

Hannah scowled into her tea cup at the memory.

“Not so much anymore,” she said, trying to keep a growl out of her voice. “Usually it’s enough when I glare at any idiots who feel entitled to demand things from me.”

Lily nodded along.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Still, I will not tolerate such horrible behavior within the walls of Skyhold - no matter if they are high-born or a commoner. I permanently banned him from Skyhold; Lord Bruic Scheissehausen will not bother you anymore.”

Hannah had been in the middle of a sip of tea when she heard the name of the nobleman who had accosted her and it took all of her willpower not to spit take everywhere. She coughed several times, trying to clear her airways, while Lily stared at her in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked and frowned. “I don’t actually speak Fereldan so I wasn’t sure if I got the pronunciation right.”

Once Hannah collected herself again she waved off Lily’s concerns.

“No, no, you’re quite fine in your pronunciation,” she said around a grin. “I just wasn’t prepared for the man’s name. Did Lady Montilyet not translate it for you?”

Lily’s frown deepened. “Now that you mention it, her face was unusually amused when we talked about it, but I didn’t think anything of it. What does it mean?”

Hannah snorted and broke into a new bout of laughter. “His name--- his name is Brick Shithouse,” she finally managed to get out and dissolved into unrestrained giggles.

Lily’s eyes bugged out at once as an undignified snort issued from her mouth - which she promptly covered with her hand.

“Oh Maker, that’s horrible,” she said softly.

Hannah couldn’t help herself. “A horrible name for a really… crappy man,” she said and snorted as well.

Lily groaned at the terrible pun. “That was an awful joke.”

“Not as awful as that name, though!” Hannah managed to wheeze out. She was crying-laughing at this point and Lily was having a hard time keeping things together as well. “His parents really had to hate him.”

A new thought brightened Lily’s face in delight. “No wonder he’s unmarried! Who would want to be called ‘Lady Shithouse’?”

Hannah’s brain immediately provided an answer: “Perhaps a woman named Latrine?”

That was the last straw for Lily and she burst out laughing at full volume. It further triggered Hannah and they were soon howling together while trying to stay upright on the couch. Any time either of them tried to collect themselves into a semblance of calm, she would look at the other and start laughing again. There seemed to be no end in sight.

“What’s so funny?”

Raphael’s raspy voice washed over Hannah like a blanket and made her sober up significantly. There were still tears in her eyes so she tried to wipe them off as she turned to face him - and Lily did the same. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, staring at them with curious suspicion.

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Lily started, but Hannah waved her off.

“You saved me from the shittiest man in Ferelden,” she said and burst out laughing again. Lily followed suit.

Not being in on the joke, Raphael seemed a little annoyed at the little display before him, though he did his best to play along. He moved to sit down on the couch next to Hannah and gently put his arm around her waist.

“I already knew that,” he pointed out. “That doesn’t make it so funny that the two of you are crying into your teacups.”

Once again Hannah tried to contain her mirth; she took several deep breaths and fanned her face to help dry out the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. She pointedly avoided looking at Lily in case her amusement triggered her - this had to be said quickly.

“Apparently the nobleman who accosted me was called Lord Bruic Scheissehausen,” she said and choked on a laugh. “Which in Fereldan means Brick Shithouse!”

Both Lily and Hannah dissolved into giggles again at the way Raphael’s eyes turned into saucers in shock.

“What the fuck,” he swore. “That can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s real alright,” Lily chimed in. “Lady Montilyet was the one to tell me his name.”

Raphael stared at Lily for a moment before his face broke into a grin.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “He’s an ass, so he deserves an asshole name.”

Another bout of laughter bubbled up in Hannah’s lungs, though it simmered down the moment she got to look into Raphael’s smiling eyes. The funny name quickly drifted out of her mind, instead replaced by a steady heartbeat of Raphael’s name her body called out any time he was near. She could feel the small circles he was rubbing into her lower back and it made her melt under his ministrations.

“Anyway,” she heard Lily say. “Now that we got our silliness out, perhaps we should finish the tea service?”

Hannah turned back to Lily in time to see the other woman smile softly in her direction. It made Hannah blush in embarrassment for getting caught in such an intimate embrace.

“Can I join you?” Raphael asked.

“Of course,” Lily replied. “Grab a cup. There should be more than enough for everybody.”

As they busied themselves with food and drink, Hannah couldn’t help but marvel at how different her life had become in a span of just few weeks. Not only she found a man who cared about her in ways she never knew possible, but she also got a promotion and gained a female friend who didn’t seem threatened by her existence. Somehow, life became good.

[fandomn00blr]

Nightmares and Chocolate

[Another chapter of my Amell Origins playthrough drabblin,’ also posted on AO3 (minus these sweet high-quality xbone screenies!)...]

---

Her hands. So impossibly soft on the top, but hard where the grips of her daggers and the trigger of her crossbow left rough callouses underneath. Running over her. Reaching for her. Grasping. Pulling. Digging. Tearing…

And...shrieking?

Solona wasn't sure if it was her own screams or somebody else's until...

Ah, yes. The Archdemon again. Lovely.

She had come to recognize the hideous monster that haunted her dreams, and she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was actually beginning to understand its unintelligible hissing and garbled roars. She had started to feel its needs, its wants, its...commands. And at least some part of her wanted to obey.

Solona woke up in a fever-breaking sweat, her loose night clothes clinging to her. Alistair had said her dreams might get worse. Before they either got better or she just learned to live with them. He hadn't really been very clear about that.

“Warden Amell…?”

Her voice. Again. Still? Apparently, she was still dreaming.

"This is fucking torture!” she screamed into her pillow and tried to will herself awake before her dream twisted her desire for the pretty bard back into another nightmare.

“Oh my...torture?" Leliana peeked her head in under the flap of the tent’s entrance. "Solona, are you alright?”

“Leliana? Is that you?” Please don’t have claws…Solona thought, squinting up at her.

“I think so…?” Leliana didn’t sound too sure herself. And somehow, this was reassuring to Solona. “I heard you thrashing about and yelling."

Solona had convinced herself she'd only been imagining that Leliana had been setting her tent up closer and closer to hers each time they made camp over the past few days, and she hadn't dared to ask Alistair what he thought after their conversation a couple of nights ago. But it seemed she’d been close enough to hear her having this latest nightmare.

"I thought perhaps we were under attack?"

“Just in my sleep, it seems.” Solona laughed weakly, trying to play it off. “Alistair assures me that this is all perfectly normal.”

She rolled her eyes at herself. None of this was normal. Nothing would ever be normal again. Not that it ever really had been.

“Perhaps I can help? I have some good wine...and chocolate.”

"Ok, now I know I must be dreaming...”

Leliana laughed, ducking the rest of the way into the tent. "I always keep a stash of the finer things for emergencies," she smiled, so warm and inviting that Solona didn't care anymore if she was real, part of a dream, or even a demon coming to tempt her in her vulnerable state.

"Maker preserve me," she huffed, feeling her insides turning into butterflies as Leliana scooted next to her. She was a clammy mess, her hair stuck to her face and her thin nightclothes soaked almost all the way through. But here was the woman she couldn't get out of her head, moving closer nonetheless.

"Oh, yes. Perhaps we should say a prayer?"

"That's not exactly what I -- " But before Solona could finish, Leliana had knelt down right beside her, taking her cold hands into hers, even warmer than they'd been in her dream, the soft parts softer and the callouses right where she'd imagined them.

Solona swallowed whatever she had been about to say in protest, as Leliana looked up at her with an earnest plea half-formed on those lips of hers.

"May I?"

She was helpless to say no to her. Whatever she might be asking for. Her soul, maybe? "Go ahead…" she stammered. It was a low, hoarse, blunt kind of noise, in stark contrast with the light lyrical lilt of the bard.

"Maker, please grant us the hope and courage we need as we prepare for the darkness and the battles that lie ahead of us."

"In Andraste's name…" Solona began to murmur obediently. It might have been the first time she'd uttered the phrase since childhood, refusing to go to the services held in the Circle as soon as she was old enough to opt out of them.

But instead of finishing the prayer, Leliana leaned forward and pressed her lips against Solona's, dry and thoroughly unprepared as they were.

Leliana’s, on the other hand, were soft and warm. And gentle. Like everything else about her, at first glance.

When she pulled away, Solona caught just a flash of the darker desire in her eyes, too. But she looked quickly away before revealing too much, smiling bashfully down at the ground instead.

"I see the Maker's love in all things…" She lifted her face up with the rapturous glow she had whenever she spoke of the Maker, the creases and wrinkles that Solona had begun to look for because they were like cracks into who this woman really was had all gone smooth again.

“All things…?” Solona managed to choke out because if she didn’t say anything, she was afraid she might wake up from what she was almost certain now was another dream.

“Mmhm…” A hint of a wink, a tiny crease between her brows. A little quirk in her smile. “And your lips are as sweet a way to end a prayer as any I can think of.” Leliana blushed and then leaned in for another kiss.

“Wait!” Solona pulled back just before their lips could meet again, hating that the voice of conscience in her head telling her to do so sounded an awful lot like Alistair allofasudden.

“What is it?" Leliana's forehead creased suddenly with worry. "Oh no! Have I misread you? The flowers you gave me...the flirting…I thought…?”

“No. It’s just...well, Alistair has informed me that I’m extra amorous right now because of the Darkspawn blood I drank as part of my Joining...and well…" She really did sound just like him. What was wrong with her? "I would just feel bad if...”

“I understand.” Leliana sat back, her lips just barely pursed into a disappointed pout.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. I was the one who was being foolish. I feel I should explain…”

“There’s really nothing you need to --”

“I do not feel particularly beholden to conventional ideas about propriety when it comes to sex.” She blurted out, like some kind of confession.

“Oh?” Well this was certainly not something Solona was expecting to hear from the Chantry Sister.

“Physical pleasure is a gift from the Maker! As much as any other thing that makes us feel good and loved. I could not take the Chantry vows of celibacy in good conscience knowing I would be turning my back on these opportunities to experience the Maker's love...”

“Oh…” Solona nodded approvingly, as if she understood completely. In her experience, the Maker, if there even was such a thing, was cruel and distant. In the Circle, she’d only ever really heard about the many ways the Maker had chosen to punish his children. Especially the ones bearing the 'curse' of magic.

“I do not believe our enjoyment of these gifts needs to be wrapped up in the sort of relational demands and exclusive commitments people make to each other — the restrictions, the rules...”

Solona was beginning to feel as though she were listening to a sermon. But at least the message was something that interested her for a change. And the person preaching it was nice to look at.

Leliana blushed again, as if she had finally realized what she was trying to imply.

"I fancy you!" she laughed. "If I'm allowed to say so."

“You are. Allowed to say so…”

"But what I’m trying to say, is that if you do not return these feelings, it does not mean we cannot enjoy each other’s company while we have the opportunity to do so!”

“Oh, I’m familiar with casual sex, having spent almost all of my life up to this point in a Circle...” Solona laughed.

Leliana looked somehow saddened by this, which seemed more than a bit hypocritical considering she'd just offered a no-strings-attached encounter, but maybe she assumed casual sex in the Circle had nothing to do with the 'Maker's love' and therefore was excluded from this arrangement.

"I'm sorry. I must seem ridiculous to you," Leliana muttered.

“No! Not ridiculous! Your views are just...unique. I've never met a 'lay' Sister like you...or anyone who actually believes the Maker could be so...kind."

Leliana frowned again.

"But I think I do return your feelings,” Solona hastily confessed, hoping halfheartedly she might still be able to salvage this conversation. “And that’s why I think we need to just wait...until this nonsense with the Joining has passed.”

“Wait...so you do...have feelings? For me?”

“Yes. But it’s hard to figure them out when the Darkspawn blood is screaming at me through my veins like this."

“I see. That does sound quite awful."

Solona nodded.

"I um...oh this is so embarrassing! I promise I did not intend to throw myself so desperately at you like this! You just...you make me feel rather silly."

"Silly?"

"Yes. Like a young girl again!"

"Oh. Yes. Uh, same, actually…" But Solona knew it probably wasn't the same at all. Leliana as a young girl had probably been full of light and wonder and joy. Solona as a young girl had been even darker and more disagreeable than she was now.

"Disturbed," more than one of her teachers had called her, and if it hadn't been for the First Enchanter’s insistence that she was simply bored, and in need of more challenging training in spite of some of the senior enchanters' objections…well, she didn't want to think about that. It would've reminded her of Jowan's unknown fate, who hadn't been so lucky to have such a persistent advocate in Irving, and she wasn't ready to deal with the remaining guilt on top of everything else she was going through at the moment.

"Sorry…" She turned and smiled apologetically at her. "I drifted off into my head a bit there."

“It's fine. I imagine you have a lot on your mind."

They both sat in awkward silence for a moment until Leliana brightened up again. "Oh! I almost forgot! I really did bring chocolate and wine." She reached into the the satchel she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a bottle and a little parcel wrapped in fancy gilded paper.

"Another gift from the Maker?" Solona asked, finally recovering some of her characteristic sarcasm.

"Oh no." Leliana looked darkly up at her, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "This comes from another realm, where the Maker's grace is spurned entirely…”

“I didn’t know they made chocolate in the Void?”

“No, silly! It’s from Orlais!" Leliana giggled, peeling back the pretty paper with relish.

Solona beamed at her and eyed the chocolate greedily as she snapped a piece off and handed it to her.

“It’s the good stuff,” Leliana assured her, unnecessarily.

Solona swallowed it too quickly to notice. “More…”

“I’m glad you like it.” Leliana broke her off an even larger piece. “Wine?”

“Maker, yes!”

Leliana smiled and pulled out one of the daggers she kept strapped to her body. With a mouth full of fine Orlesian chocolate, unable to even scream, Solona thought, if this is the moment this woman chooses to slit my throat, I will have at least died happy, and I want Alistair to know I had no regrets.

But in a quick flash of metal and sparks, Leliana slashed the blade against the neck of the wine bottle instead.

“Show off…” Solona murmured, but the fluttering mess in her belly had become far more demanding allofasudden. She began to wonder if a single bottle of wine would be enough to dull her all-consuming hunger, even just a little bit.

“An old tavern trick. Basic bard stuff…” Leliana smiled smugly, pouring a generous amount of red wine into a goblet that suddenly reminded Solona of the Joining chalice.

She took it from her anyway and swallowed it down as quickly as she could and tried not to think too much about it. It certainly didn’t taste like Darkspawn blood, anyway.

...

Somehow, along the way to finishing their bottle of wine and another bar of chocolate, Solona ended up lying with her head in Leliana’s lap, her hunger and restlessness somewhat satisfied for the moment by the indulgences and her company. Leliana ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, loosened from its messy bun, absently twisting it into little braids, while humming some unfamiliar song.

“What is that?” Solona asked.

She remembered Alistair had mentioned something about bards and their songs and how they could hypnotize you, and between the wine and the general lack of sleep, and the warmth of Leliana’s lap and the way her hands raked gently through her hair...well, she was feeling pretty drowsy.

“Just an old Chantry hymn. The tune is probably older than the Chant of Light, I imagine. It’s a bit absurd, I know," she laughed. "But I find it comforting in dark times.”

“It's nice. Nothing like the dreary dirges they used to sing in the Circle…" Solona yawned.

“Then I shall continue humming it for you. Until you fall asleep. Or until I do...whichever happens first.”

"Promise?" Solona asked, already halfway there.

Leliana smiled down at her, twisting a braid around her pinky. "I promise."

[laraslandlockedblues]

Lara’s Master Writing Post

My Master Writing List can be found as a page here, and writing prompts only found on Tumblr can be found by searching my tag “writing prompt.”

But I realized I’ve never shared an easily mobile/rebloggable version before so here goes. Was just going to share again because I’ve updated it but also because I’ve gotten a lot of new followers since the last time I shared this. I suppose though since it’s Fanfiction Appreciation Day, though, I may as well share!

Dragon Age Inquisition - Lightning Struck Series - Cullen Rutherford and Evelyn Trevelyan

1. Eye of the Storm - Work in Progress

Evelyn is far too naive, young, and overwhelmed by everything asked of her after the Conclave. She tries to put on a brave face, but she’s slowly falling apart. Cullen is far too weary, self-loathing, and searching for redemption in his role as the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, but he doesn’t think he’s worth finding any. They both feel broken, but maybe they can find a way to feel whole again.

Main canon fic for my Cullen/Evelyn pairing.

2. Moments Passed - Work in Progress

What if Cullen was sent to the Ostwick Circle instead of Kirkwall after the Fifth Blight was ended? An AU exploring the relationship between he and Evelyn Trevelyan after they meet following his relocation to Ostwick.

3. Miss Grey - Work in Progress

Commander Cullen came to Haven from Kirkwall to join the Inquisition, but he didn’t come alone. And no one quite knows what to make of the small Tranquil who follows him wherever he goes, never out of his sight.

4. Rehabilitation - Completed Work

Modern AU that focuses on Cullen’s lyrium withdrawal and recovery after he is sent to a rehabilitation center under the care of Dr. Evelyn Trevelyan. Follows his recovery and their blossoming relationship as he makes it through his addiction and eventually sets out to help others who wish to follow in his footsteps. Little to do with DA:I.

5. Even Doves Have Pride - Completed Work

An arranged betrothal leads to a rebellious, wild Evelyn, and her father enlists a certain former Templar-turned-bodyguard to keep her in line until the big day.

Modern Bodyguard AU with eventual smut and romance featuring lots of references to popular songs, including Prince, Led Zeppelin, and Tom Petty. Features little to do with DA or DA:I.

6. Bound to Burn - Work In Progress, Co-written with WindySuspirations.

A trip to Redcliffe to make reparations for the Mage Rebellion brings more complications that expected when rooms run short and the naive Inquisitor finds herself in close quarters with the man she can’t possibly ever have - her smirking Commander.

7. What Are the Odds - Completed Work

A chance encounter at the Hanged Man for some stress relief leaves Knight-Commander Cullen with a few questions, and an insatiable desire for the mystery woman he met.

DA2 & DA:I AU that places Evelyn in Kirkwall following the rebellion at the Gallows, where she meets and becomes involved with Cullen before he joins the Inquisition.

8. Dream a Little Dream of Me - One Shot

Evelyn’s usual wanderings of the Fade take an unusual turn when it starts to recreate the desires she has for the Commander, becoming more vivid each time she dreams. And Cullen finds himself waking from dreams that seem so real he swears he can still feel and taste her on him.

There’s no harm in indulging in fantasies, right? Unless there’s more going on than simple imagination.

9. The Deal - One Shot

Evelyn wishes she could more easily soothe all of Cullen’s issues, and help him sleep better at night. But after yet another bad night’s sleep, she gets an idea that just may work.

10. Discretion - Tumblr Prompt One Shot

A brief flare of jealousy in Evelyn makes Cullen wonder why he tries so hard to keep things private.

11. An Awkward Start - Tumblr Prompt One Shot

The Commander gets caught in an intimate moment, but it turns out better than he could have expected. Based on the Tumblr prompt, “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” requested for Cullen.

12. Just One Dance - Tumblr Prompt One Shot

Cullen asks for help from the last person he’d usually seek out, but an evening he dreads turns into confusion as it reveals things they both didn’t realize they wanted. Modern AU. Based on the Tumblr prompt, “Just pretend to be my date.”

13. The Dance of Love - Prompted One Shot

A first date on Valentine’s Day takes a turn when Cullen accidentally takes Evelyn to a dance club. Modern AU.

14. The Sun and The Moon - Marian Hawke/Fenris, Work in Progress/Very Slow to Update

Chronicles the important moments in the romance of the fem!Hawke/Fenris pairing that features in Eye of the Storm and other works in the Lightning Struck series. Inside are some spoilers for Eye of the Storm, as well as some background/headcanon Cullen moments.

Dragon Age Inquisition - Just Say Lass Series - Knight-Captain Rylen and MGIT Abigail Henderson

1. After Rain - Work in Progress

Abigail Henderson just wanted more out of life as everything began to fall apart - a chance to start over, a chance to be herself again.

When she ends up in Thedas, she finds more than she bargained for - as does the former Templar who finds himself fascinated by the woman from a place called Earth. Also features Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan from the Lightning Struck series.

2. Just Like Heaven - Work in Progress

Knight-Captain Rylen just wanted to do what he could to help defend the innocent people of Thedas - especially when the sky split ope and demons started falling out of the Fade.

When he somehow ends up in a place called Earth, instead, he has to come to terms with every part of his strange new reality - including the fascinating woman, Abigail, who finds him and helps save his life.

3. Wicked Game - OC/OC WIP

He’ll break your heart, Abigail. A man like that is used to having the world cater to his every whim, and you’ll never be enough. Be careful.

Companion piece to Just Like Heaven, a collection of semi-one shots from the perspective of Abigail Henderson’s soon-to-be ex-husband, John Baker. Gives insight into how they met, how their relationship began, how it fell apart, and later on will include insight into scenes from its parent fic.

4. Knight-Captain Rylen Appreciation Week 2018 - Completed Work

Collection of drabbles and one shots to celebrate Knight-Captain Rylen Appreciation Week!

5. Of All the Things to Fangirl Over… - Gift One Shot inspired by this art piece by Sloth-Race

MGiT Abigail Henderson has one of her first - very common - experiences in Thedas, and Rylen can’t quite figure out why she’s so excited about it. Set within After Rain canon.

6. Burning Up - Tumblr Prompted One Shot

Abigail meets a dashing Starkhaven stranger one night at the bar she works at, but one drunken decision turns into more when he comes back the next day. Modern Thedas AU. From the Tumblr prompt “You make adorable sounds.”

7. Stud - Tumblr Prompted One Shot

After a long day’s work at Skyhold, Abigail helps Rylen work through his stress. From the Tumblr prompt “Your skin is so soft.”

8. Never Enough - Tumblr Prompted One Shot

Rylen finds a few moments along with Abigail. From the Tumblr prompt, “Try to keep quiet…we wouldn’t want to get caught.”

9. His Lass - Tumblr Prompted One Shot

From a Tumblr prompt to see Rylen take care of things for himself when he’s away from Abigail.

10. Anniversary - Tumblr Prompted One Shot

From a Tumblr prompt for Rylen to see Abigail in a pretty dress and all dolled up for the first time.

11. Stolen Moments - Giveaway fic prize for Kawakaeguri

Each time, every time, just a smirk and the words “my lass,” and she caves. But why bother resisting if she doesn’t want to? Set within After Rain canon.

Dragon Age - And the Sky Will Burn Series - Modern Kirkwall AU Co-Written with Dismalzelenka

Part One: Your Arms Feel Like Home - Work in Progress

Two women with no connection to each other. A chance meeting and a quick goodbye. Neither of them expected everything to change.

Abigail Henderson was enduring a blind date turned cautionary Tinder tale. Solona Amell was just doing her job bounty hunting for a local bail bonds office. When Abby’s date and Solona’s target turn out to be one and the same, neither of them expects how quickly their lives will turn upside down.

When an altercation with local law enforcement is caught on video and begins to circulate the Internet, they both find themselves thrown headfirst into the lingering mage-templar conflict still gripping the Free Marches twenty years after the violent destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry. Their personal lives aren’t left unscathed either, as both women find themselves grappling with strange new acquaintances and relatively unwanted attractions to two former Templars now working as detectives with the Kirkwall City Police Department.

Tensions rise as past transgressions begin to surface, but everyone has secrets to hide.

Part Two Coming Soon!

Dragon Age Stand Alones

Beautiful Disaster - MGiT Cecilia Moore and Cullen Rutherford - Work in Progress

When she thought about how much she wanted to get away, she never realized just how far she would end up.

Just another Modern Girl in Thedas story.

Hero Worship - Mara Trevelyan and Garrett Hawke - Work in Progress

The Inquisitor can’t seem to think straight around the heroic and devilishly handsome Champion of Kirkwall. And he doesn’t make it any easier on her when he unexpectedly invites her to his room one night.

And what starts off as a fling turns into a whirlwind romance neither one of them is prepared for.

Out of the Ashes - Nemaine Tabris and Alistair WIP (on indefinite hiatus)

Nemaine Tabris’ life just seems to go from bad to worse after the traumatic interruption of her wedding causes her to be conscripted by the Grey Warden Duncan. But in the midst of the Blight, she finds herself thrown together with someone who just may help her survive and thrive.

In the Grotto - Knight-Captain Rylen and Cassandra Pentaghast - One Shot

Knight-Captain Rylen discovers what makes Seeker Pentaghast happy, and does his best to help her find some stress relief.

Inspired by this piece by SangoSweetz (NSFW Art)

The Hope of the Desert Bloom - Adoribull Giveaway fic prize for SoulRebel

Too much to hope, too much to dream that maybe - just maybe - this time it could be something more.

Mass Effect - Stress Relief Series - Fiona Shepard and Garrus Vakarian

Part One: Goose Bumps - Completed Work

Fiona Shepard woke up on a Cerberus operating table, apparently after being dead for two years. She wants nothing more than to see a familiar face, someone who will have her back as she works with her former enemies and tries to save the galaxy. Again.

And then after one trip to Omega, she’s reunited with her best friend in the galaxy.

But he looks at her differently, now - and she can’t seem to shake this new feeling. Especially not once she realizes it’s not really a new feeling.

Part Two: Ride or Die - Work in Progress (on hiatus)

It had been one hundred and eighty-four days when they finally sent for her.

Commander Fiona Shepard had spent six months relieved of duty, essentially on house arrest.

She had spent her time distracting herself, preparing herself, and resisting the urge to write to *him* for a prison break.

But now the Reapers have arrived, and all she can think about is getting back to him, and keeping the promise she made.

[talesfromthefade]

(havesomedragonage)) Helllllo. I am SO in the mood for some dang shy kisses for DWC, for any character/pairing of your choice!!!

Marina Amell x Alistair Theirin, for @dadrunkwriting  Their first kiss, because these two are adorable and horrible/awkward at the same time about talking around their feelings, turning two totally competent adults into shy, joking, and blushing messes with each other. It was too cute not to write.

It’s a quiet moment. A rare thing amongst such a large collection of followers and with some of the more chatty members of their party. But Marina volunteered to refill their water supplies while the rest of their companions set up camp, and as usual, her fellow Grey Warden had accompanied her. It’s rather pretty here. Untouched by Darkspawn or the Taint, at least for now. A cool and gentle breeze rustling through the reeds and grasses along the bank to tickle at the hem of her robes.

She could wear something else, she supposes. More substantial armor of some sort. If not something like Alistair’s, which is almost certainly far too heavy for her, perhaps leathers like Zevran or Leliana. Except that she fights best from a range, supporting her fellows from a nearby higher-up position, and her rock armor spell is generally more than sufficient enough to fend off blows from any melee attacks during their usual encounters. She’d never actually thought to leave the tower that had been her home for most of her life, but she’s not ashamed of what she is. It seems foolish somehow to start now. So she wears robes that- in the grays and blues of the order’s colors- easily distinguish her as one gifted with magic with a certain level of pride. Alistair, despite his upbringing and training, whatever his initially jokes about being turned into a frog, or his turbulent relationship with their apostate companion, seems to accept this and take it all in stride as much as any other decision she makes.

Alistair’s understanding of magic, like a great many Templars, may be a bit over-simplistic, but he’s not afraid of her or what she can do. He respects and trusts her as an equal, at times even as his better, though Marina’s not altogether certain she deserves that much. And now that Wynne has joined them, it’s clear it’s not simply a matter of choosing to overlook or like her in-spite of her arcane gifts, but rather this is yet another thing to appreciate about her. And however sheltered life in the Circle may have been at times, Marina hasn’t failed to notice Alistair’s appreciation. It’s doubtful any of their companions have, though he’s been respectfully silent and clearly making an effort to be more subtle about it since their trip to the Tower.

Marina knows from speaking with him about his years under the Templar order Alistair never made it to the point in his training of receiving his first draught of Lyrium, but it's difficult to imagine him patrolling the various levels and rooms of the Circle. Of attending Harrowings...

“Alistair?”

“Yesssss,” Alistair replies with a slight grin as he stoppers another skin and places it on the bank beside them, turning his attention and gaze to her. Marina bites the inside of her lip, suddenly unsure about voicing the question that moments before had been on the tip of her tongue. “Sovereign for your thoughts,” he prompts gently with a chuckle.

“A sovereign?” Alistair shrugs, still smiling.

“Wynne said you were a star pupil. Your thoughts have got to be worth more than a couple of Bits.” Marina laughs softly, fighting the urge to blush.

“Wynne was being kind.”

“I don’t think so,” Alistair replies, shaking his head. “Well, I mean, she is. Sometimes. With the right people and when she wants to be. But, not about that. Duncan said as much too, that when he asked about recruits First-Enchanter Irving was sad to see you go, but couldn’t have spoken higher of you. And I’ve seen you. When we’re fighting, or just the little stuff- getting our fires started, the wards around camp… You’re great. I-” Alistair hesitates, scrunching his nose and brow in something between concentration and frustration. “Look, I don’t know much about magic, obviously. Or talking to people- or women… Raised by dogs, you know,” he chuckles softly with a sheepish sort of grin as the tips of his ears are beginning to go pink with embarrassment. “But I think you’re- yeah, I think you’re great. Fantastic.”

“Anybody ever tell you how handsome you are?” It’s not the question Marina had first thought to ask of him, but truthfully his compliments have so disarmed her, she’s loathe to bring up something potentially dark and ruin it all. Moments like this, like the rose still safely kept in a pouch at her waist, are all too fleeting. They none of them know how much time they have left, which day or battle might be their last. She and Alistair haven’t known one another for very long. This thing between them could be nothing, perhaps only the product of close proximity, the enormous amount of pressure and responsibility that has been thrust upon them, or needing someone to lean on, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like something more, or that it could be, and Marina has had her time to mourn old loves lost and things that were never meant to be. Perhaps she and Alistair aren’t either, but she’s done pretending she wouldn’t at least like to find out.

“Not unless they were asking me for a favor,” Alistair replies slowly. “Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were… not like you,” the warrior adds, before quirking his head to offer her an appraising look. “Why? Is this your way of telling me you think I’m handsome?”

“And if it is? What then?”

“Oh nothing much,” he says, smile growing a little wider as he speaks. “I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while. So… is this the part where I get to say the same?”

“Not unless you don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think so. I’ll just spring it on you when it’s a surprise,” Alistair chuckles.

For a moment, Marina thinks of springing her own surprise on him, eyes lingering a little too long on his mouth as his laughter and the mere fact they can laugh, that they can find moments and happiness like this here and now amidst so much does something in her belly. It would be so easy to bridge the small space between them, to find his lips with hers, but something holds her back, if only for a moment. Uncertainty, not of the rightness of it, but her skill, her experience- or more accurately the lack thereof. Her fellow Warden has been obvious in his admiration, but slow in his pace, and Marina doesn’t want to screw this up.

“Alistair,” she ventures softly, worrying her lip. “If you were raised in the Chantry, have you never…”

“Never…? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?”

“You know what I mean,” Marina mutters, feeling her cheeks turn red as she suddenly busies herself with avoiding his gaze for a moment to compose herself again.

“I’m not sure I do,” Alistair replies, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Have I never seen a Basilisk. Ate a jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought. Well, tell me: have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?” There’s a slowness, a kind of teasing emphasis that he puts on the question, drawing out his ‘L’s that sees the blush returning to her cheeks once more following a warm and instinctive clench between her thighs even as he’s clearly once more making jokes to attempt to diffuse any sort of tension. Maker’s breath.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Marina mutters, shaking her head. “Have you ever slept with anyone before?”

“Oh, so that’s what we’re talking about. I admit I’ve never had a woman just… come out and ask me like this, that’s for sure.”

Flames, Marina thinks, blushing still harder, even in her attempts to be cautious she’s making a mess of it all. She’s a competent enough mage, certainly, but there are times now she’s living outside the Circle where it’s clear she’s woefully under-prepared for certain day to day, or means and topics conversations non-mages or Tower residents simply don’t have. “I, myself,” Alistair continues, taking her by surprise in choosing to answer her possibly too intrusive question anyway, “never had the pleasure. Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course, but… you know. Living in the Chantry is not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of beautiful women such as yourself. That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Found a way to slip that in there sooner than I expected,” Marina smiles softly at the compliment.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised, though,” Alistair points out with a mock pout, earning a laugh. “Well, I don’t suppose you would be. It doesn’t seem possible you wouldn’t know it. You’re ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you’d probably hurt me for not saying.”

“I would never hurt you, Alistair. Not if it could be helped.” Alistair’s goofy answering smile looks entirely pleased and certain as he nods.

“No, I don’t believe you would. Nor would I.”

“And no, to answer your earlier question,” Marina offers a bit shyly. “I don’t think that’s bad.”

“Good,” Alistair nods. “You’d want a gentleman to court you, wouldn’t you? If… if you were to be courted by someone, that is,” he adds hastily.

“I think I’d like that. With the right gentleman.”

“Ha, that’s good to know. Though, I wouldn’t really know how to go about it in practice,” Alistair admits in an uncharacteristic show of nerves and earnestness.

“Is that what this is,” Marina probes, slowly pushing the waterskins and buckets they’ve collected between them to the side. “Or, what you’d like it to be?”

“Maaaaayybeeee,” he hedges, chewing a little on his bottom lip.

“I’d like that,” Marina nods.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she nods, smiling softly. Marina doesn’t hesitate any longer to act on the impulse that’s been in the back of her mind since they broke away from camp together, scooting forward until their knees are touching and reaching out to cup his jaw. He leans forward as she does until their lips find one another in a sweet and tender kiss.