#they didn’t think that it was the Queen of Ferelden herself

[crunchbuttsteak]

Elyssanya Cousland: Hello Sister Justine, what would you do if a vial of the Tears of Andraste herself just happened to fall into the Denerim chantry’s donation bin?

Sister Justine: Wait, are you the one who keeps putting all these priceless relics in the Chantry’s donation bin?

Elyssanya Cousland: I couldn’t possibly say. Incidentally, Bann Faranderel has so many worldly possessions that I highly doubt he’s even noticed some of his many possessions are missing, isn’t that funny?

LATER

Alistair: I hope somebody comes to rescue us from fort Drakon soon my love.

Elyssanya Cousland, who’s already picked the lock and cut the guard’s throat: Did you say something dear?

Alistair: Oh wow, I thought that would have taken longer.

Elyssanya Cousland: The locks on the doors here only have 7 tumblers and two security pins in them, it’s like they want people to break out.

[ooachilliaoo]

In All But Name - Loss

It felt like having an arm cut off. Or like there was a gaping hole in the world. An awful absence that pervaded her every move and thought. The space where he should be.

She wondered if they all felt it, or if it was particular to her.

Would it always be like this?

Or would it get easier over time?

She hoped for the latter, but maybe the price for all the happy moments they’d had while the land suffered under the blight was to live with this awful emptiness forevermore.

They should have been happy. She should have been happy. They’d done the impossible. United the kingdom under one strong ruler and defeated the blight. They deserved a reward, not a punishment.

Except that ruler was him. And two Grey Wardens couldn’t have children. So he couldn’t marry her. Couldn’t make her queen.

She’d tried to think of an alternative solution, but – like the problem of who should rule the kingdom in the first place – she hadn’t, in the end, been able to find anything other than the obvious.

So, she’d left.

Ceded her place in his arms on the floor of that beautiful ballroom to Lady Lyra and… left.

The only indication that she’d been able to give him of her intentions was the briefest shake of her head. Maker only knew how he’d react when he realised what the gesture meant.

But he’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

He, with his gentle heart and sharp mind, would lead Ferelden into a new, prosperous age. His past would ensure that the poor and hungry wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten, while his optimism dreamed up the image of a brighter, fairer future for him to work towards.

And she – her two previous lives left in ruin behind her – would walk into her next life. Older, stronger, and prepared to dedicate her life to the Order that had, for one shining year, brought her such joy. She knew how to run an Arling, and how to train an order of warriors, and she would make sure that his kingdom remained protected.

She’d watch his back, instead of him watching hers.

And they’d both be okay.

She’d seen it all on that balcony, the one that she’d fled to after leaving his arms simply because it was the nearest exit and she hadn’t wanted anyone to see just how much she hurt. The night air had been a balm to her battered heart. As long as she ignored the faint remnants of the music on the edge of her hearing – as long as she didn’t picture what might or might not have been happening on the dance floor with a man she still considered hers – she thought that she might have been able to regain control of herself.

But her thoughts had been racing and she’d worried that if she went back into that ballroom – even just to cross it in order to leave – he’d find her and convince her to stay. Or worse, she’d see him dancing with someone else, and actually enjoying himself.

She’d suffered a lot in the past year, seen any number of horrors…

But she didn’t think she could have survived seeing that.

And so, the newly minted Warden Commander of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, had found herself climbing over the balcony, down the castle wall and escaping into the gardens.

Read the rest on AO3

Read the full series here

[videogame-ocs]

Dragon Age canonical world state rambles #1: the mage rebellion.

All of my canon protagonists support the mages, but their ways into it are very different.

Amelia Cousland did not know about the mages struggles until she went to Redcliffe and Kinloch Hold. She knew that harbouring a mage wasn’t very good, and that non circle mages were called apostates but because she was not a mage and was noble who spent most of her time in Cousland Castle and in Highever growing up, she had no idea how bad things were. It was really meeting Connor and then seeing how things were at Kinloch Hold that showed her how awful things were and turned her into a mage rights supporter and silently fighting for better conditions for mages and to change how the circles are run.

When she became queen, she tried to get the circles changed, both her and Alistair actually drafted out possibilities but they were both too scared of how divisive it would be, especially early in their reign of Ferelden.

Amelia did try her best, and she managed to give a mage with the surname Amell from Kinloch Hold a job at Denerim Palace as lead magic researcher and come the Mage-Templar war, the Rebel mages would receive supplies from an anonymous source (which was definitely not Amelia 😉) and Alistair did give the mage rebels shelter in Redcliffe as temporary as it may have been. Amelia also checked in with Connor post the Fifth Blight regularly to see if he was alright.

Freya Hawke is an apostate mage herself. She grew up on the run, moving constantly, and she’s related to a mage who was at Kinloch Hold, she’s directly impacted by the treatment of the mages, so of course, she wanted things to be better. She was always supportive of the mages in her decisions and almost got into several fights because of it.

Although she didn’t really start fighting for the mage rights actively until she met Anders as she wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

Freya had the same drive as Anders, the same passion for change, and of course she fell in love with Anders, partly because of his drive and passion for mage equality. although she was less radical than Anders, and didn’t think blowing up the chantry was the way to go, she did believe it was a long time coming and so she couldn’t really disagree with Anders actions and she did agree to go on the run with Anders after and is part of the mage rebellion, her husband being a major figure in it.

Anya Trevelyan despite being a noble and not magic was unlike Amelia, more aware of the plight of the mages. Her older brother, Percival was taken to the Ostwick Circle on his fourteenth birthday and the secret letters he wrote informed her of the treatment of the mages, so she was a proud supporter of the mages and their rights. It’s one of the reasons why she wanted to convince her father to let her go to the conclave in the first place.

Later Anya chose to gain the mage’s support, in one of the few times she outright disagreed with Cullen, and made the rebel mages at Redcliffe allies, offering them shelter after King Alistair banished them. She also supported Cullen’s suggestion for reformation within the circles in Ferelden, supported Leliana as Divine, kickstarting the dismantling of the circles and the mages being allowed to govern themselves. Oh and her best friend is a Tevinter Mage.

[my-dumb-obsessions]

So Merrill and Marethari are from the same clan as the Mahariel and the one of the boon’s offered to a Warden Mahariel is for their clan to have a permanent homeland in the hinterlands. Yet in DA2 they are in the free marches instead and in DAI we spend quite a lot of time in the hinterlands and yet no Dalish.

There’s an obvious Doylist answer that Bioware didn’t want to lock out an entire companion and a ton of quest lines in DA2 based on one’s choices in the previous game or massively rework a major area of the game and create an entirely new set of quest lines in the area.

But what do you think the Watsonian answer is for that?

So, reading up on Marethari and her history in Ferelden, I think the clan not claiming the grant from the King/Queen is almost entirely her decision, and it has a lot to do with her deal with Flemeth.

If we're using the official timeline, the clan moves out of Ferelden at the start of the Blight, shortly after the events of the Origin or the Battle of Ostagar. It's very likely that Flemeth told her to get the clan out of Ferelden before the Blight overran them. Flemeth being Asha'Bellanar/Mythal, to whom Marethari is indebted/bound for destroying the Avvar who were attacking her clan, thus helping elevate her to the Keeper role.

When Flemeth saves Hawke from the Darkspawn around the same time, she knows that Marethari will be at Sundermount, probably because she told the Keeper to go there and await instructions. Hawke brings the amulet 1-2 years later and sure enough, there they are. At that point, (again, using Bioware's timeline), it's been less than a year since the end of the Blight, meaning word of the boon Mahariel asked for may not have gotten to the clan yet, or they only recently got the news. If she hadn't been waiting on Flemeth's instructions, she might have been in the process of arranging for the clan to go back to Ferelden. I mentioned in a response to another post that Marethari's sin is pride and she keeps her own counsel, so she may have gotten word of the land grant and not told anyone else, so that no one could argue with her about staying. Then Merrill leaves (I don't think it's clear if Marethari appoints a new First), and at some point Marethari lets herself be possessed by Audacity, so now she's bound to another entity that doesn't want the clan to leave. The point is rendered moot, especially if no one else in the clan knows there's land waiting for them in Ferelden.

At the end of Act 3, the clan is either killed or decides to move on after Marethari's death. I think, if word of the boon made it to the clan, the Keeper took that secret to her grave. If the clan survives, after staying so long in one place, they probably move around a lot after that, making it hard for any messengers from Ferelden to follow up on it if they tried. And after so many years, local officials would have either forgotten about the grant (Teagan is kinda busy during Inquisition), or would push back against the Dalish settling there permanently after ignoring it for so long. There's also the problem of Redcliffe arling being hit hard by the fighting after the fall of the Circles, and the problem of the Breach so even if the remainder of clan Sabrae knew and was prepared to claim the land, it would be too dangerous to for them to settle there during Inquisition.

[inquisimer]

for this dadwc friday, Neria + 🍵Someone forgot a key ingredient (and the key ingredient is CHEESE)

hehehe back on my cheese nonsense, to Josephine's detriment and Neria's amusement🥰🥰

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

The spread was impressive. Clearly, the ambassador had gone all out.

A cloth, embroidered in honor of the Ferelden throne and the house of Mac Tir, covered the simple, sturdy table they’d brought in for the purpose. Matching napkins were artfully folded and placed atop delicate china, nicer than anything Neria had ever eaten off of in Skyhold. Tiny, ornate forks and spoons accompanied each setting, as did a teacup, rimmed and decorated with gold filigree that gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Pitchers of cream and sugar bowls with dainty tongs had been placed strategically to ensure each participant had one within reach.

Then there was the food. A dozen platters, each with a different delicacy, had been carefully placed to fill out the tabletop. For the savory options, there were eggs done in the Anders’ style, encased in sausage, breaded, and fried; delicate cucumber sandwiches with the crusts removed; quiches loaded with ham and scallions. On the sweeter side there were lemon and rosemary scones; little cardamom cakes, dusted with cinnamon sugar; trifles layered with mint whipped cream and strawberries.

In the middle, a tart and cake sat side by side, clearly the centerpiece of the offerings. The crust on the former was flaky and golden brown, ornately braided around the edge of a creamy filling swirled with leeks and dill. The latter sat atop a glass stand, sporting several layers of sponge, immaculate frosting roses, and topped with chocolate swirls and gold leaf.

An impressive spread, as she’d said. There was just one problem.

“Where’s the cheese, Josephine?” Neria faced the ambassador, watching as her expression fell from expectantly confident to a subtle, concerned panic.

“The…cheese, Inquisitor?”

“The cheese,” she repeated. “Surely you don’t intend for us to host the Queen of Ferelden without offering her any cheese?”

“I—“ Josephine whipped back toward the table; Neria could practically see her train of thought.

Skyhold was in a grey area when it came to sovereignty. Neither Orlais nor Ferelden had a concrete claim over the fortress, and therefore oversight of the Inquisition fell on no one—but no one was particularly satisfied with that either. The ambassador had been playing favors to both nations, struggling to keep enough heat from their backs until they’d successfully dealt with Corypheus. Toward that goal, she’d invited the queen to see Skyhold for herself: to see that the training there was, in fact, against demons and ancient magisters, and not some ploy to stage Orlesian forces on Ferelden borders.

But she forgot the cheese.

It was a cruel prank, perhaps, but it’d been a rough couple of weeks and Neria desperately needed the laugh. She kept her face in carefully arranged neutrality as Josephine cycled through stages of widened eyes and ashen skin.

“I—oh, I didn’t think—oh—“ One hand flew to her updo and she took several steps toward the  hallway before seeming to remember that she should justify her departure. “Excuse me Inquisitor, Ser Warden, I must remedy this at once! I’ll consult with Leliana, I’m sure she’ll know something or—or someone—oh no—“

Neria held in her giggles until the ambassador was out of earshot, then dissolved in on herself. Truly it was Josephine’s fault, for not realizing that anything Neria said about politics was sure to be worth less than garbage.

“You know, I realize I wasn’t meant to be king for long at all, but never once in that time did Eamon bring up the necessity of cheese at a banquet.” Alistair didn’t move from where he’d propped himself against the wall, but he did raise a curious eyebrow in her direction.

“You don’t agree that the queen would be insulted by it’s absence?”

“The queen? No I don’t think she would,” he said dryly. “Perhaps if I had the throne it would be a greater consideration.”

“Well your opinion matters just as much to Josephine; more to me, because I actually value it.”

Alistair snorted. “So do you think she’ll be able to find cheese in the next few hours, or will we be watching her explain the absence of this nonexistent formality from a safe distance?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of cheese.” Neria waved a careless hand toward the window. “Some of the younger recruits saved a handful of goats; they’ve been harvesting milk for months now.”

“Ah good. I’ll save my excuses for not attending for another time, then.”

The sunlight glinted off Neria’s smile. “As if I would be that cruel.”

[pinkfey]

kat and anora getting married in private,,,,,,, snifts ;-;

[nobloodneeded]

How much cooler would the Here Lies the Abyss quest be if it was the Hero of Ferelden as the Warden?

Think of the interactions! 

- Warden Amell reuniting with their long-lost cousin, the angst of leaving either one behind (especially if Hawke survives, that’s just another relative taken from him).

- Seeing a Morrigan-romanced Warden in the garden interacting with her and their son. Seeing him whisper flirtations in her ear and catching her smiling until she sees the Inquisitor and she nudges him away, collecting herself. Watching him clap a hand to his son’s shoulder or hugging him tightly. Or, if he didn’t go through the Eluvian, a touching moment where he meets Kieran for the first time. 

- Finding the Warden stealing moments of Leliana’s time up in the tower. Walking in on the two in a passionate or tender moment. Leliana apologizing, but happy nonetheless as it had been a long while since she had seen her love. If the Inquisitor is romancing Bull, they can comment it’s a funny change to be on the other side intruding on an intimate moment. 

- The letters from Zevran containing post-script that was heavily redacted due to its explicit nature for the Warden. BEST would be a sudden Sit in Judgement quest Josephine brings to your attention. A roguish elf is charged with scaling a tower and caught by Cullen’s men. Zevran charmingly waves his shackled hands at the Inquisitor with a witty remark. The HoF bursts through before judgement can be passed, claiming her love and imploring the Inquisitor to reserve judgement, who bemusedly would. 

- King Alistair paying a visit to Skyhold on important business and absolutely NOT here to see his warrior-Queen/Mistress, what would give you that idea, but by any chance where could he find her? Warden Alistair boisterously exalting his love of his Warden so loud Morrigan could be heard making a comment on their sickening display.

[laurelsofhighever]

Since it’s Ace Awareness Week...

Let’s hear it for Ace OCs! Demi, Grey-Ace, Aroace, and everything in between! Asexuality has so much variation, it’s something to celebrate, so I think it’s time to show some love for OCs who find themselves part of the spectrum of asexuality 💜 🖤 🤍 

Starting off:

This is Rosslyn Cousland, 5′10 warrior Queen of Ferelden, demisexual. She romanced Alistair, but after growing up at court was very worried that he would leave her if she told him that sex wasn’t something she ever really thought about - or wanted. When she finally plucked up the courage to tell him and he responded by telling her he would love her no matter what, she became more accepting of herself, and less  nervous about pursuing a relationship with him.

Her heart thronged in her ears; nerves ran tingling through her hands. “Desire has never… had a place with me. Not to that extent. I don’t understand it. When I was growing up, whenever anyone talked about attraction or – or wanting to sleep with someone, I always thought they were exaggerating, I thought that was what people did, like it was a game and I was the only one who didn’t know the rules. I realised I was…” Broken, her mind sneered. “Different.”

She started when a hand reached out to cover hers, but if she looked at Alistair now, if she lost her nerve and looked up and found him retreating, the ground beneath her might fall away entirely and take her with it.

Where to find her: the Rosslyn Cousland series on AO3, which includes my longfic The Falcon and the Rose

Spread the love, add your own OCs!

[imakemywings]

Just a quick fill for this prompt for some post-Blight Zevwarden fluff

AO3 | Pillowfort

______________________________________________________

Letting them stay in the castle was the least Anora could do, given that it was Warden Aeducan’s hand that had put her on the throne, and done away with her potential competition, and with that in mind, the invitation was extended as long as Warden Aeducan and her guests wished to make use of it. Sereda had appeared eager to depart at her crowning as the Hero of Ferelden, but it seemed the long pursuit of the archdemon had caught up with all of them—for two days straight, they did little else but sleep.

               That morning, Zevran had finally woken feeling rested, but Sereda was still out cold, her sleeping bonnet sliding off, Queen Anora’s white sheets stark against the blue-black of her skin. Smiling at the way she sprawled over the bed, Zevran brushed a hand over her hair and rolled off the other side of the bed to find some quiet way to entertain himself.

               Sereda felt like she had been sleeping for more than 48 hours, and she could very well keep going. Every time she started to shift back to consciousness, she remembered some other thing from the last year that had exhausted her, and collapsed back into unconsciousness. The thing that finally galled her to open her eyes was realizing Zevran’s side of the bed was empty.

               Stone…what hour is it? she wondered as she lifted her head from the pillows. “Groggy” was not nearly strong enough to encapsulate how disoriented she felt, so that when she saw Zevran busying his hands over a tiny, foldable table it took her a moment to register the scene.

               “Good morning, my demon-slaying, kingdom-saving, queen-crowning ex-princess,” he said, with a voice far to chipper to have woken recently. Sereda dropped her face back down into a pillow with a groan.

               “What time is it?” she finally got out intelligibly.

               “Oh, sometime after noon, I think,” Zevran replied. “Does it really matter?”

               Through the cobwebs of Sereda’s mind, she decided that no, it didn’t, really. She drew in a long, deep breath and rolled onto her back, a sliver of her mind marveling over the fact that she was still taking in air, and not bumping pints with the ancestors.

               “Coffee?” Zevran’s query made her push herself up enough to see him, and realize what he had been doing on the tiny table. He held up a mug and she nodded, then squinted her eyes at him. He was nearly naked, except for—

               “Are those my smalls?”

               Zevran flashed a cheeky grin, and poured another coffee, adding sugar and cream to whatever specifications existed in his mind.

               “I was going to take your shirt, but the sleeves are too short.” The smalls, by contrast, were wide enough in the hip and thigh to hang loosely off Zevran’s narrow frame, drawstring drawn tightly to keep them in place. He sashayed over to the bed, and handed her the mug he had not doctored—to her pleasure, the coffee was straight black, just the way she liked it (it made Zevran gag, in a way she thought was terribly exaggerated, and he even wrinkled his nose handing it over, as if the mere scent of it was offensive).

               “And?” She held out her free hand, making a grasping motion with her fingers. Zevran heaved a long-suffering sigh, and jerked loose the drawstring on the shorts, stepping out of them and flicking them over to her, all without setting down his coffee. “Thank you.” She put her own mug down to wriggle back into the smalls, then settled cross-legged on the bed, hands wrapped around the steaming mug. “I shall endeavor to find you something else to wear,” she said, as Zevran joined her on the bed, not troubling himself to solve that particular problem himself.

               Sereda’s eyes raked over him, noting the barely-scabbed wounds on his chest and arms, and the long slice on his left leg, still bandaged and troubling him more than he would admit. Throwing soldiers to the darkspawn was not something she was unaccustomed to, and her willingness to sacrifice had once made her one of King Endrin’s favorite military strategists, with a command of her own, so it surprised her how protective she had grown of her little band. Well—perhaps it was not so strange in regards to Zevran.

               “Please, take in the view as long as you like,” Zevran said, leaning back on one hand to give her a better eyeful. Sereda snorted, and was only stopped from giving him a smack by the fact that they were both holding hot coffee.

               “I was just thinking how handsome you’d be with a beard.”

               “Tsk! How you wound!” he cried, rubbing his bare chin. “I cannot help my shortcomings.” Sereda snorted and took a big mouthful of coffee. She still felt like she was rinsing the ashes of Denerim off her tongue. “I’m sure I can find a way to make up for them,” he said, putting his mug down on the floor to throw himself over the bed, head in Sereda’s lap.

               “Hmm, I don’t know,” she said, reaching down to trace her fingers along his smooth jawline. “There would be a great deal of talk among the nobility. Ah, but I’ve just remembered something!”

               “What is it, dearest? Oh, have you found a solution?”

               “I’ve just remembered I owe them nothing and I can do whatever I want.” She leaned over to press a clumsy kiss against Zevran’s lips, and felt him grin into the kiss.

               “Isn’t that a nice feeling?” She raked a hand back through his silky blond hair and took another sip of coffee.

               “Remarkable.” She sighed and glanced at the high windows of the bedroom, through which a sun of undetermined hour beamed through. Zevran’s eyes were on her, and she thought maybe she should say something else, but it felt like too much effort. Trying to broach what had happened the last week…no, it was too much, just now. She’d rather speak of empty, meaningless things, and come around to the rest in due time. Not avoiding, she told herself, just waiting for the right moment.

               “Your hair is long enough to braid, though,” she said at last, lifting her mug.

               “Oh?”

               “Mm.” Gently, she ran her nails over his scalp, in the way that made his eyes slide shut in bliss, and he tilted his head back into her hand. “If you had a lieutenant, or a second, you might braid each other’s hair before battle,” she said, speaking of dwarven tradition and hinting at her past in a way she rarely did. “It is…a kind of intimacy. Trust.” Zevran’s eyes peeked open.

               “Is this something you did in Orzammar?”

               “I let my second, Gorim, do it for me on a few occasions when we ventured into the Deep Roads,” she said.

               “And you were…close?”

               “Not like that. But yes.” There was still a twinge of guilt in her breast for Gorim’s twin exile. He had served her well—he did not deserve to suffer with her. It had been surpassed by pride for the life he had made for himself there in Denerim, and now relief that he had survived the archdemon’s assault.

               “But you did not return the favor?”

               “I was his princess,” Sereda said. “The only hair I would have braided were my brothers’, and my father’s, and they never asked.” As always when speaking of her past and her family, Sereda spoke bluntly and factually, as if reciting a fable rather than speaking of her own life. “Sit up,” she said abruptly after a thoughtful pause, nudging Zevran’s shoulder with her knee. He complied, and she pressed her mug into his hands. “And hold still.”

               She had to raise herself up on her knees to be able to reach his head properly, and his back was warm against her bare torso. Without preamble, she combed through his hair with her fingers, and began to part it. With a comb and a bit of grease she could have made something far neater, but she did not wish to trouble herself with delays, or searching out the items, so she tackled Zevran’s fine elven hair with just her hands.

               He was unusually quiet, sitting neat and still for her as she began to weave his hair in the style he might have worn about the Diamond Quarter if he lived with her in Orzammar. Not for a day at the Proving arena, but for social calls, it would be quite appropriate.

               “I am beginning to think you have an attraction to scandal,” he said after he had allowed her to work several minutes in silence.

               “Perhaps I do. Perhaps I played the good daughter too long.” A soft sigh escaped Zevran’s lips, and she could see how relaxed his shoulders were as she gently tugged and scraped his hair into place. “Or perhaps it’s your influence.”

               That made him laugh, and for a moment, Sereda closed her eyes and relished the sound. It had taken her time to see the grief under Zevran’s careless smiles, but now she took twice the pleasure in making those smiles genuine.

               “I would like to think I could manage to topple a dwarven princess,” he said.

               “Don’t get carried away,” she said. “I was fallen from grace before we met.”

               “There is always further to go, my love.” Sereda snorted and gave a little jerk on his hair, just enough to make him give an indignant yelp, and then a much lower sound. “Oh, is it that time already?” he purred, and Sereda bumped her knee into his back, less effectively than she’d hoped.

               “Not until I finish this,” she said, and he did not balk about that. When she had finished, she sat down and admired her work. “There. You’re all ready to go socialize with the Harrowmonts and the Daces.” She thought he would get up then, to search out a mirror to have a look, but instead he just turned and captured her lips in a kiss so deep he pushed her back down on the bed.

               “It’s perfect,” he said.

               “You haven’t set eyes on it,” Sereda objected.

               “It’s perfect,” he insisted. Sereda parted her lips to tell him he couldn’t possibly know until he looked, but the open genuineness in his eyes silenced her, and she lifted a hand to his cheek.

               “Of course it is,” she said. “I would give you nothing less.” The weight of the battle washed over them again, and they decided that the day was best spent in their room, and that the rest of the world could wait a while longer.

[tiadres]

30 Day Dragon Age OC Challenge

15. Choices

Tia’s choices in the main quests of Origins, Awakening and Witch Hunt: 

🌹 Supported the mages and did not allow the Rite of Annulment 🌹 Helped Redcliffe prepare and fight 🌹 Saved Connor by sending Jowan to defeat the demon in the Fade, with the help of Circle mages   🌹 Did not defile the Urn of the Sacred Ashes 🌹 Brokered peace between the elves and the werewolves  🌹 Defeated Branka 🌹 Supported Bhelen to become the King Orzammar 🌹 Supported Alistair to become the King of Ferelden, Loghain executed by Alistair 🌹 Accepted Morrigan’s offer 🌹 Dealt the killing blow the Archdemon, survived the battle  🗡 Protected both Vigil’s Keep and the city of Amaranthine 🗡 Killed the Architect 🔮 Did not go trough the Eluvian, and did not attempt to stop or harm Morrigan either

I think a lot of these decisions are very understandable in the light of what I have already told about Tia during this challenge: she wants to support her fellow mages and protect civilians, she is an Andrastian even if her views differ from the Chantry’s teachings, she always seeks diplomatic solutions... Her hardest decisions out of these were the question of who should be the ruler of Orzammar, who should rule Ferelden and whether to take Morrigan’s offer.  The Orzammar situation was challenging because to Tia it felt like having to choose between two bad options: Bhelen was the late king’s son but there were concerning rumors about him, Harrowmont was the late king’s close friend and advisor but he didn’t seem completely clean either. It was a though choice but she ended up supporting Bhelen and feeling kind of dirty for it, but later she was somewhat content upon seeing the progressive changes Bhelen did in Orzammar, such as making it more open to the outside world and making things better for those who had been at the bottom of the caste system.  Tia had not enjoyed having been forced to make big political decisions (especially since officially Grey Wardens are supposed to be neutral), but she soon had to do so again in Denerim. She ended up supporting her love Alistair because she thought he could grow to be a great king and while he was initially reluctant he seemed to get used to the idea and even want it as the Landsmeet went on. After being selected Tia convinced him that he could still keep her around as mistress, so all seemed pretty good on that front. Later Tia has wondered if she should have supported Anora instead because even though Ali did become a great king, it is also a huge responsibility and a stressful position for him. Maybe he would have been happier as a Grey Warden, and then him and Tia could also spend more time together. Also Anora would have surely made an amazing queen. So overall this is the decision Tia has probably regretted or questioned the most afterwards.

As a player I must confess that this is a choice that was heavily influenced by my own meta knowledge of what would happen later: if Ali was a Grey Warden, I would have been forced to choose between him and Hawke in DAI, and I simply didn’t want either to die. So instead I arranged for Ali to be king so I got to sacrifice poor Stroud instead. So while I try to roleplay and go with decisions that make the most sense for my character, this is the one exception. On the other hand it does create an interesting personal conflict for Tia: should she have chosen otherwise? Would it have been better for everyone if Anora had become the ruler instead of Ali? 

I already touched Tia’s mixed feelings concerning Morrigan’s offer in the previous prompt, focusing on the feeling of having cheated the fate even though at the same time Tia was of course happy that both she and Ali could live. Adding to what was said previously, Tia didn’t like the idea of Morrigan having sex with her boyfriend and wondered if she herself had broken a line by persuading Alistair to go along with this plan. Tia does not know what exactly happened during that ritual; a part of her does not want to know and the part that would have wanted to be there to see didn’t get what she wanted because Morrigan didn’t allow audience (or “extra participants”). Tia and Ali agreed to never talk about that night because both of them just wanted to shrug the memory off. What was done was done and Tia got what she wanted so she does not exactly regret having made that decision, but she does feel dirty about it for multiple reasons. So if the Alistair vs Anora-decision is the one Tia questioned the most afterwards, the deal with the witch is one that was hardest and most complicated emotionally. 

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

[kirkwallgremlin]

15. Getting Dressed Up

Frankie Brosca x Alistair, 596 words

“Please don’t laugh,” Frankie called from the other room, finally dressed and ready for the events of the evening. Alistair waited in anticipation - she always looked beautiful but she took his breath away when she emerged through the doorway. 

Her dark hair was loose, contrasting with her pale skin. The dress, an unusual choice for her, was simple but elegant, a dark blue colour, and her dark eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. They had been one of the first things he noticed about her and continued to be one of the things that always caught and held his attention.

Of course, the very first thing he had noticed about her was her brand, a curious mark that spread dark across her cheek.

“It means I’m casteless,” she had told him when he asked, her chin raised in defiance as though challenging him to think less of her because of it. “Scum of the earth back in Orzammar.” 

The same brand was still visible on her face, as familiar to him now as every other part of her.

The servant helping her dress had offered to cover the mark, at least a little, but she had refused. As much as he knew she hated it, she always refused. Mages had even offered to try and find a way to alter it too, to hide it from her skin and she had always refused them too. 

“It’s part of me,” she always told them. “I will not forget where I came from and I won’t let anybody else forget it either.”

It didn’t make her any less beautiful as she walked towards him, although the expression on her face said she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the clothes she wore and the way she looked. 

“Pretty dresses like this don’t suit people like me,” she said, nose wrinkling in distaste. “I feel like I’m faking something.” 

“Francesca Brosca, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he told her, trying to keep his tone light and joking, as though offended at the idea she would think otherwise. It was difficult though, the words trying to stick in his throat as he looked at her, hoping his tone conveyed how genuinely he meant it.

Maker, how had he been so lucky to meet a woman like her, to have her care for him as much as he cared for her? 

“I hate you,” she said, cheeks turning pink, and his mouth twitched in amusement. That was the first thing out of her mouth every time he used her full name. Every single time. 

“Is that so, Francesca?” he teased, reaching down to take her hands, partly out of affection and partly to limit her ability to punch him in the arm. “I mean it though, you look absolutely beautiful. I know you don’t always feel it but everybody else can see it. And I can see it, and as we all know, my opinion is the most important one of all, about anything ever.”

“Of course it is,” she laughed, looking a little more comfortable even as her cheeks grew from pink to red. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Really, though?” 

“Really,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Ferelden. In Thedas even. You’ll outshine the Queen herself.”

“I don’t think Anora will be happy about that.” Frankie smiled. “But… thank you.” 

“Anytime,” he whispered, crossing the space between them to wrap her in his arms. 

She was beautiful and she was his and he couldn’t think of anything that could make him happier.

[read all on AO3] [challenge tag]

[felassan]

The Hero’s Journey to the West

This post is a mix of meta, speculation/conjecture and headcanon.

I don’t think the Hero of Ferelden is ever coming back as a PC or NPC beyond mentions/rumors and Codex entries/letters, but their quest to find a cure for the Calling fascinates me. It always makes me think about the Chinese novel by Wu Cheng’en. 

We know that they came back from their trip. We don’t know if they succeeded or not, but since the romanced Leliana epilogues are fairly happy in tone, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to headcanon that they did - at least, in terms of ridding themselves of the Taint. I feel like whether they succeeded in finding a way to allow all Wardens to escape the Calling would be something up in the air, like, kept-back at the moment by the devs; because surely such a revelation would rocket through the Warden order and in a future title might be heard about or alluded to in-game, crop up in a Codex somewhere, color our future interactions with Warden characters on the Wardens’ end, or potentially influence future storybeats relating to the Wardens. (It would be a rather major thing.) In dialogue Morrigan says that if the HoF is successful, it will mean a long life for him/her/them, and perhaps even a long life for all Wardens.

On the ‘when’: Although the Hero was gone by the time Divine Justinia died (per romanced Leliana dialogue), they didn’t leave straightaway after the events of Awakening and Witch Hunt (Heroes who fathered Kieran had not yet met their son at the time of WH), since in DA2 Hawke meets King Alistair and Queen Warden was home at court, and in DAI romanced Morrigan says her partner helped raise Kieran for a time before events transpired to take him elsewhere (which is a reference to his journey).

On the ‘who’: In the ancient novel Journey to the West, the monk Tang Sanzang has powerful disciples who help and protect him on his journey: Sha Wujing, Zhu Bajie and Sun Wukong. In my head there’s a fun parallel here to DA’s four-man parties, and how the HoF is accompanied by - for example - Ariane, Finn and Dog during the episodic DLCs like Witch Hunt. This is purely headcanon, but I always liked to think that some of the Awakening companions that we never heard from again (so not Anders, Justice or Nate) and who in some epilogues mysteriously disappear, accompanied them on the quest for the cure; Velanna, Sigrun, possibly Oghren. (And Dog, of course - Dog in my head never left the Hero’s side after DAO, the notion presented in the games that he sometimes did is odd to me. Why would he, lol?) These characters could easily have a vested interest in wanting to rid themselves of the Taint. And obviously Zevran went with them, if romanced.

There’s plenty of material on which to base speculation about how a cure for the Calling might come about or be obtained, what the cure might involve. You have the case of Fiona, there’s Avernus’ research, there are instances where the Taint was drawn out of living things as with Isseya’s clutch of griffon eggs, the Architect doesn’t appear to be subject to the Call of the old gods and freed some darkspawn from it too, etc. I’m more interested atm in where the HoF went.

Leliana tells us the Warden went "far to the west, to lands that have never known the Blight”. Their search took them out of the area in which Corypheus was operating, and thus beyond the reach of the false Calling that affected other Wardens. During the timespan of base-game DAI, they were still in geographical regions which were reachable in such a way as to allow messages from Leliana’s agents to get to them after Leliana/Morrigan/etc gives the Inquisitor the means to contact them, and for letters from the Hero to be sent back in return. (That could be something essentially handwaved on the part of the devs in order to allow for the mechanic of hearing from the HoF in DAI, though.) Here I’m always reminded of the men of the Night’s Watch taking caged ravens with them in their expeditions beyond the Wall, so that the birds can carry messages back to the manned outposts. I look at the map of Thedas and wonder. Where might they have gone? Where was the western-most outpost of the Inquisition?

West of Ferelden takes you into Orlais, where the effects of Corypheus’ operations were felt. The Hero might naturally have taken the Imperial Highway and passed through settlements like Halamshiral, Lydes, Verchiel, Montsimmard and Val Firmin en-route. Such a route makes logical sense both in terms of convenient travels and the fact that in a war table mission, Leliana’s agents report “scattered references of [the Hero] passing through the area” (said area is not specified, but it makes sense that the Hero would have at times passed through inhabited places, since at times they were sighted). It should be noted however that when this war table mission is undertaken, the card ends up ‘played’ on the western shores of Lake Calenhad. Still, unless you took ship through the Waking Sea, most likely any journey west from Ferelden would have passed through or near that part of the country anyways, due to the sheer size of the lake, the highway following its banks and the fact that Gherlen’s Pass is the only safe route through which to cross the Frostback Mountains, at least in terms of year-round travel.

Anyway, in the western reaches of Orlais is the Western Approach. The Approach was the site of a major battle during the Second Blight - its desolate sands and barren badlands are definitely not lands which “have never known Blight”. And we know from a war table mission that the mines and tunnels of the Gamordan Peaks are infested with darkspawn, that the large darkspawn host that appeared at Val Gamord came from the mountains. Here is where it gets interesting. Were the environs of the Sulfur Lakes, Malcellin Geysers and the Sea of Ash always this way, as in this is the naturally-occurring geological/geothermal profile of the area (volcanic), or are they so wretched because like the nearby Western Approach, the land was corrupted beyond recovery during a Blight? I imagine that the Hero would have largely avoided these areas and the Approach due to this (inhospitable travelling terrain + Blight-touched/probably Blight-touched), and instead at this point struck out more north-westerly for a time.

Doing so would bring someone through or around the Nahashin Marshes. Above we can see the location of Serault in relation to the Approach and the Marshes. There is a crossing point in the Nahashin Marshes used by a merchant in The Last Court, who travelled from Val Chevin through Montfort and Ghislain, before going across the Marshes to get to Serault. Given this and the fact that they’d likely be steering away from the Approach, I can see the Hero following the Highway all the way to Ghislain and then crossing the Marshes on their way to Serault, obviously without going to Val Chevin, which would amount to backtracking.

What then of Serault, the mysterious marquisate located in the far west of Orlais? It’s Orlais’ western-most holding, and per a Codex entry as far west as one can still call civilized. I certainly headcanon that the Hero passed through here before forging further into wilds and lands unknown - here Serault Town has a Tolkienesque “The Last Homely House” feel to it, perched on the edge of it all:

This is the edge of the world. Beyond Serault Town is the Last River, and beyond the river, villages, charcoal-burners, the wilderness.

Per war table missions, Inquisition agents also travel to Serault during the time-frame of base-game DAI - here we have what is likely to be one of or the last place[s] where the Hero could have picked up messages from the Inquisition before ‘jumping off’ into the unknown. Laysh is another possibility, route-dependent (see below).

Serault is a strange place, where “unlikely” things happen. Perchance, was there useful knowledge to be found here? Morrigan herself dwelt here for a time, researching at the Glassworks and working to repair an eluvian. It’s implied she does this regardless of whether the Marquis allows her to or not. Notably, it is Morrigan “who found the lead[s] the Hero now follows in the western lands”. This was probably the “gift” Morrigan gives the Hero in Witch Hunt. She leaves them the stolen Dalish book Ariane was seeking to get back, and "something [else that the Hero] will find of great interest”. (She doesn’t give the something-else gift if he goes with her, but if he goes with her she’d just tell him in-person about what she’d found, so it stacks regardless). That said, when it’s a romanced Warden Alistair worldstate it sounds like he and the Hero found the lead on their own. I enjoy the leads being Morrigan’s gift though as an idea, and as a way of filling in what the heck the gift was.

Courtier’s children in Serault play at “Wardens and Darkspawn”, implying that Serault has either once been touched by Blight or else that tales of Blight and darkspawn and Warden heroics have reached the settlement. “Roads under the earth” (how very Deep Road-esque) are implied to stretch from Seraultine lands to an emergence somewhere in the Vimmark Mountains, there’s a bereskarn in the nearby woods and at one point the Marquis imagines the “tang of Blights” when a bitter wind blows from the north. I therefore find it unlikely that Seraultine surrounds have never been touched by Blight. Suspect the Hero ventured farther still, through the Applewoods - both the tamer Greenwood and the sinister Deepwoods, into the depths of the Tirashan. I’m obsessed with the Tirashan and its enigmatic denizens. What things they must know... mysterious, forgotten things. Are these elves ancient elves? To whom are they calling? These elves seem to guard their lands very fiercely, so it’s not a crazy idea that if the Hero entered the Tirashan they encountered some. Would an elven Hero have had a smoother initial interaction with them? It’s also not a crazy idea that the Tirashan elves might have knowledge that would have proven useful in the Hero’s quest, given the hints that they call to powers we possibly haven’t yet encountered. Their red vallaslin and apparent propensity for sacrificing people make me think of blood magic, and blood magic has practical uses in combatting Taint (Isseya’s spell on the griffon eggs, Avernus the blood mage, the Dark Ritual which was blood magic-based and ultimately caused the removal of Taint from Urthemiel’s soul, etc).

Say the Hero journeyed farther still. Over/through or under the southern Hunterhorn mountains to the forest or continuing forest on the other side (see the map of Thedas with expanded edges given to us in TN), which is inhabited by who knows what. Here the “Beyond Thedas” sections in WoT are of interest:

For many ages, the world that lies beyond Thedas has been largely unknown to us. Rumors and legends exist, tales of hardy sea captains crossing the ocean in search of treasure or ill-fated forays into the wilds, but they have always been buried under hearsay. Any serious attempts at exploration have been foiled by either the devastation of the Blights or the discouragement of waters plagued by both pirates and Qunari dreadnoughts.

The Hero surely would have researched such scattered references to the ill-fated forays, and sifted through hearsay, as 'homework’ before setting off on their trip. Going deep into the wild western wood is tantalizing in a frontier kind of way, but we can’t ignore the following entry in WoT, which I think was included in this manner for a reason.

Say instead the Hero travelled through the Hunterhorns and the Anderfels, maybe with a detour to nearby Weisshaupt to report in, confer with the First Warden and check the archives in its extensive library in case anything in there could prove useful in their quest, much like the recruit Valya did during her own investigation. The Anderfels are super Blight-blasted, so they would not have stopped there. In terms of travels in this area, I think it’s likely they would have joined a caravan being led by the Green Men order through the Wandering Hills to the distant port of Laysh.

The Voshai are yet another mysterious, unknown culture, and have materials and items that are completely unknown in Thedas proper among their wares. They come from a far-flung place and seem to Know Things. The status of dwarves in their society and their interest in lyrium is interesting, given the link both dwarves and lyrium have to underground places and the Blight. Can the reports of the recent return of the Voshai vessels to Thedas be a coincidence? I don’t think so, in the context of things discussed in this post. What powers and potentials are to be found among the wares of the Voshai that these Tevinter merchants were so keen to mount several expeditions into the wild unknown in search of them, even after several voyages never returned? I think the Hero probably took ship at Laysh (either they managed to secure passage on a docked Voshai ship, or there was an expedition vessel the Hero chartered), and went across the Volca Sea to the lands of the Voshai. Here they could have found a cure, and then a Voshai ship to then take them back to the known Thedosian continent.

A final few notes: You have to wonder, the lands which are untouched by Blight, why is that? Is it environmental - natural barriers or environmental conditions inhospitable to darkspawn? Is it magical protection? Are there limits to the darkspawn/Blight’s realm of influence, and if so, why, and how do these limits work? Does the fabled cataclysm in the lands of the Voshai have anything to do with a Blight (you could definitely describe a Blight as a cataclysm, for one thing)? And why on the new map with expanded edges from TN, along all the borders/expanded space, despite the fact that in WoT the “Beyond Thedas” stuff discusses all directions - why on the TN map is there only one place at the edges with an arrow pointing off into the unknown realms? Granted, it’s not the west Tirashan nor is it the north-westerly Volca Sea, but it is notable and worth mentioning. What lies south-west in the Sundered Sea, and why is it marked like this?

[sinsbymanka]

One more for @pookydraws! This is actually a gift from @tessa1972 who donated to RAINN and then donated the commission to Pooky! I love you both and thank you for being so supportive of each other and all of us! This smutty drabble features Pooky’s Sarita Amell and King Alistair Theirin! 

Do you want your own fluffy and/or smutty drabble? I’m still accepting donations through Ko-fi for RAINN! I met my goal BUT you can still donate there and hit me up anywhere to let me know what you’d like! You can also donate and receive your drabble anonymously. I will not post your name or tag you in the post.

Title: The King’s Reward Pairing: Female Warden/Alistair Theirin, Female Amell/Alistair Theirin Rating: E Content Warnings: Post Dragon Age Origins, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex Read on AO3

Alistair knew there were less pleasant places that Denerim in the summer. Abandoned crypts. Swamps. The Korcari Wilds. Anywhere that served Orlesian cuisine exclusively. Orlais in general.

Yes. There were certainly worse places to be than the sweltering heat of Ferelden’s capital city. But it was certainly hard to remember that when he’d taken off everything except his own skin and still felt like he’d stepped into mage fire.

He reclined on the chaise, rubbing the back of his palm across his nose, and frowned down at the near illegible tiny print blurring before his eyes. Andraste, he’d been at it for hours. He had to be nearly done.

Alistair cast a despairing glance at the stack of papers on the floor, the rest of his newest Antivan trade treaty. Then he pinched his nose, hard, and sunk further into the plush material.

It was Sarita’s favorite chair. He’d hoped sitting on it would help him channel some of her focus, but so far he’d been disappointed. He just… wasn’t as good as the minutiae as she was. Frankly, the fact Ferelden didn’t fall into chaos as soon as she rode out of the capital city was a miracle sent from the Maker himself.

But she had a duty. They both did. She fought the blight, for both of them, because he’d had to forsake his oaths for a crown. His sword languished in a training yard, his crown fit ill upon his head, and Sarita…

Sarita was his mistress instead of a queen like she should have been.

It had been the right thing for Ferelden. The only thing to do, really. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Though things were changing. The situation in Kirkwall was becoming tenuous, proving the Circles didn’t work. Once that keg exploded, and it was about due to at any moment, it would be a matter of time until the established systems fell down around his ears.

He’d be ready. They’d defeated the blight, after all, and once the old rules were gone…

Well. It was a pleasant daydream. Much more pleasant than Antivan trade treaties, in fact. He tossed the paper to the side and laid his head back, luxuriating in the faint breeze that stirred the curtains. He closed his eyes and conjured Sarita’s azure eyes, the blonde hair tucked behind the curve of her ear.

She’d be back soon. He couldn’t wait.

------------------------

Alistair didn’t know how long he slept, but the soft sound of movement drew him from heavy, blissfully dreamless, sleep. Even after years, his gut reaction was to freeze and hone in on the small noises, searching for danger while keeping his eyes closed. He heard the rustle of silk. The splash of water.

Then he felt thin, staff calloused fingers tracing over the hard planes of his muscles.

“Sleeping on the job, your highness?”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head before opening his eyes. Above him, Sarita returned his crooked grin with one of her own, walking her elegant fingers down his chest.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He rumbled.

“Not as much as you were.” Sarita’s expression shifted into a wicked smirk, searing hot gaze dropping down his body.

That was the moment Alistair remembered he was snoozing away in all his Maker-given glory.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t a servant.” Sarita added, eyes twinkling.

“Maker’s breath. I’m lucky you weren’t Oghren.”

“Oh, he was with me. I’d say you struck him blind, but I’m not sure he noticed.”

Alistair laughed. “Sounds like Oghren.”

Sarita hummed a muted agreement, her eyes trailing down his revealed skin. Cheekily, Alistair snatched her fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips, kissing the tips while he held her gaze.

“And have I struck you blind like the Revered Mother always said would happen?”

“Not yet.” Sarita purred, leaning over him on the chaise. “Have you missed me?”

“Endlessly.”

Joy sparked to life in her eyes. She brought her lips closer to his, leaning in to whisper against them. “And is this our treaty with Antiva?”

“It is.” He replied, pious as possible. It was made difficult because his sleep addled mind had finally caught up to look beyond Sarita’s stunning eyes and the golden fall of her hair.

His lover wore a simple silk robe, the pale material almost sheer in the late afternoon sunlight. She smelled of lavender, clearly already washed up after her arrival. The loose tie of the robe let it fall just right so Alistair could trace the swell of her breasts.

“It’s all done?”

“Just needs a final stamp. Got to read through it and make sure they didn’t put me dancing naked in the town square as one of their…”

Alistair lost his train of thought watching Sarita capture her plump lip between her teeth, peering at him through her long lashes. His breath caught in his chest as her finger drifted lower, scratching at his abdomen with blunt nails. His cock twitched with interest, beginning to swell between his thighs.

“Maker’s breath. You’re beautiful. I’m still a lucky man.”

“Working hard and compliments?” Sarita questioned. “It sounds like someone has earned a reward.”

“I have behaved myself. Ask anyone- oh Maker.”

Sarita’s quick fingers pulled the knot in her robe and it fell from her shoulders like Andraste herself was unveiling her most glorious masterpiece to the world. Alistair pushed himself up, eager eyes darting over her exposed flesh. The curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, and those breasts.

Andraste herself didn’t have a nicer pair of breasts. Alistair knew. He’d been shoved in front of many statues of the blighted woman.

...not that he’d been looking at Andraste’s breasts.

Before he could fall further down that train of thought, Sarita settled herself on the opposite end of the chaise. One firm, strong hand pushed him back into a reclining position, her smile absolutely wicked. The kind of smile that always heralded the best activities.

“I know just the thing to show my appreciation.” Sarita purred, running her hand back down his body. His cock, fully erect, bobbed as she trailed her teasing touch up over his stiff length. He watched her smile grow predatory.

“Just enjoy, love. Allow me.” She whispered.

Truly the only thing he could think to say was a prayer of gratitude for the lovely creature in front of him. Sarita stole the words out of his mouth by dropping her pink lips to the tip of his manhood, pressing a perfectly filthy kiss to the tip.

Alistair swallowed, hard, and brought his hand up to cup the soft skin of her cheek. She leaned into his palm while her quick tongue darted past those tempting lips to lick a stripe down his length.

Alistair grit his teeth together, blowing his breath through his nose. It’d been too long, she’d been gone too long, and he wasn’t going to last. “Sarita…”

“I know.” Her own voice was husky with desire, blue eyes molten with it. “Thank Andraste for Warden stamina, right?”

“It’s a perk.” Alistair breathed. One of the few, but he’d take it. And her. He was certainly going to take her thoroughly before the evening was over.

She smirked, wrapping her long fingers around the base of his cock and opening her mouth.

Warm. Wet. One of Alistair’s hands threaded gently through Sarita’s hair, the other roughly grabbed onto the delicate upholstery of her chaise. His back arched, although force of will kept his hips steady while Sarita swallowed his length in her hot, willing mouth. Years of habit meant she took him easily almost to the hilt, the hand wrapped around his base stroking what she couldn’t take comfortably.

Those sharp eyes looked up at him again and Sarita squirmed between his legs. He could smell her own desire, heady in the air, as she bobbed back up his length. His cock slipped from between her lips and she placed another kiss on it’s tip before diving back down.

Someday, she was going to kill him and Alistair wouldn’t even complain. His moan of approval rang out in the silent room while his fingers stroked through her soft hair. She felt… Maker, she felt fantastic.

Then her tongue swirled around him and he hissed, knuckles gripping the chair going white. “Sarita.”

She made a noise of approval that vibrated around his length and he moaned again. That only emboldened her to devour him with relish. Her teasing tongue danced over his throbbing shaft, she hollowed her cheeks to suck him deeper into her mouth.

Alistair’s hand trembled. Fire ignited in his spine, traveling down to his groin. He clenched his jaw, trying to stave it off, until Sarita’s eyes found his again.

He was lost the second he saw the matching heat in her gaze. With a groan of defeat, Alistair surrendered to the pleasure she coaxed from him. His head fell back, something buzzing in his ears as his cock swelled further before everything went white.

Searing white. Hotter than anything he’d ever touched.

He came back to himself in pieces, panting and slick with sweat, Sarita’s fingers swirling patterns over his thighs. He huffed a small, choked laugh that was matched by her giggle.

“Missed you.” She admitted softly, resting her head on his thigh.

“Only cause you love me.” He murmured.

“I do. Very much.”

His heart melted in his chest and he looked back down into her angelic face. “Good. Cause I’m quite mad for you.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

*pokes head in through your door* Did someone request OC asks? :D

How did your Warden react to Zevran’s failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?

Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?

How did your Warden respond to Wynne’s comments if your Warden romanced someone? Did they tell her it was love or that the relationship was purely physical?

Did your Warden believe that Leliana was telling the truth about her vision from the Maker or were they skeptical?

How did your Warden speak to Sten? Did they fight with him often or were they more humorous in their responses?

How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

*whips my head around smiles* That's meeeee! The OC asker in the flesh! Or well, digital. But, pah! 'Tis I! >:D

*rubs hands together* Let's do this! I've itching to share more of Elise, so thank you so much! X3

How did your Warden react to Zevran's failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?

Gonna be completely honest, Elise found it amusing. XD

At first.

She's lived her entire life in the Circle, a dismal cage with gilded bars. When she was conscripted, Elise looked at the world around her and went, 'I love it. I love it.' Tomes and stories that told of grand assassinations, trysts, and all manner of political intrigue were riveting to a mind that only knew stone walls and high, unreachable windows. So, when Elise found herself apart of an attempted assassination, a Crow assassination no less? Her heart sped up, her palms turned sweaty with excitement, and her magic sparked to life with more ease than she had ever thought herself capable of.

Obviously, when faced with Zevran after the fact, questions and answers holding dark shadows, Elise snapped out of her romanticizing. She saw that pretty bound books and an author's 'personal' representation of events they knew nothing about was merely fantasy; they weren't true, they weren't idyllic. They were cold. They were hard. They were just veneer to paint over the atrocity of war and power-mongering. People suffered for what she found so enthralling, and Zevran's attack, and later his past, makes her realize that she is truly naive of a world that she claims she loves.

Elise knew nothing about the outside world. Just like those authors knew nothing of the suffering of the people caught in the crossfire of war--those that had to do ungodly things just to survive.

Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?

Alistair's lineage did surprise Elise somewhat. However, in Ostagar, when she had met Cailan, and then went on to meet Alistair, something...stuck. There was a resemblance; Elise could see it in the faces of two seemingly different men. Cailan and Alistair don't look exactly alike, of course, but there are a few characteristics that made Elise pause while speaking to Alistair and go, 'Where have I seen the slope of his nose before?' or 'If his hair was just a shade lighter, he would be..' So, when Alistair finally shares the truth of his birthright, Elise takes it in relative stride, but it also makes her heart sink a bit.

By Redcliffe (in my play-through at least), Elise is beginning to development feelings for Alistair. She finds his presence comforting, his views refreshing, his resolve endearing, and his gentle awkwardness lovable. He's been with her since the beginning, when she was mildly frightened and unsure of a cage with no bars, but still a cage due to what she was; a mage. Alistair saw that, knew what she was, and still, he treated her like an equal--reaching out when nightmares took her, offering her a witty quip or a playful smile to try and lift her back up from the mud, and reassuring her she wasn't alone in this long and bloody task of their's.

Alistair treated Elise as a person, and Elise offers that same kindness when he reveals his connection to the throne. However, she can see the warmth in his eyes fade a little upon telling her, a crooked, wry smile replacing the jovial air of another, and Elise knows that Alistair knows.

She's a mage and he, a king. There is no happy ending in store for them, but love is as persistent as it is fleeting, and they fall into each other's orbit despite the pain it later brings them both.

How did your Warden respond to Wynne’s comments if your Warden romanced someone? Did they tell her it was love or that the relationship was purely physical?

Elise was kind of belligerent, not going to lie. It's actually the first time I envision that hardened side of her beginning to shine through.

When Wynne points out the fact that she and Alistair are both Wardens, and that he's the son of a king destined to follow in those heavy footsteps, it only succeeds in bringing those painful fears to the fore and reasserting to Elise that she can't be happy because of what she is. This conversation happens after the Broken Circle quest, so Elise is still haunted by those horrors of a home sundered, and most of all, Cullen and his words towards her. So, two sources have said to her, 'You can't have this because of what you are.', and that tears into Elise's slowly hardening heart. She knows her duty, she knows what she is and she's proud of it, and Elise believes that shouldn't bar her from what others are freely given.

"I am a mage. I am a Warden." Elise spat, fists clenching and unclenching sporadically as she glared into the elderly mage before her. "But, I'm also a woman--a person, Wynne. I have feelings, and I won't sweep those aside just because you think it's best, because the 'world' somehow suddenly demands it!" Magic tingled at her finger tips, sparks latching onto tiny energy nodes of the Fade as her hands began to shake. "I care for Alistair. I want to see him happy because this world hasn't let him be so! So...so, fuck your concern and wisdom! I have choices, Alistair has choices, and if that's irresponsible to you, then leave because my heart won't change. No matter what pain it could bring me!"

Did your Warden believe that Leliana was telling the truth about her vision from the Maker or were they skeptical?

Now, I think I've mentioned that Elise is somewhat religious. She believes in the Maker and Andraste, but like Dorian says in Inquisition, she doesn't believe in the Chantry's rhetoric.

In regards to Leliana's vision, the magically curious side of Elise comes out and she ponders if the vision was the work of it. She doesn't outright ask Leli that, knowing that it would probably be rebuffed or met with a, 'I'm...not sure.', but it lingers in the depths of her mind and Elise tries to do some research into similar occurrences, to no avail. All Elise knows is that Leliana finds strength and hope in what she saw, so she doesn't challenge it and spoil it with practical applications. After all, the nature of faith is shaped by the unknown, and Elise always did like a good mystery. So, even if she didn't completely believe it herself, Elise knows what it meant to Leliana to have that warmth long denied by a Chantry brazier.

How did your Warden speak to Sten? Did they fight with him often or were they more humorous in their responses?

Elise was fascinated by Sten. She had only read of the Qunari in the few meager tomes she could find--most struck from the records by the Chantry due to 'heresy'. So, when at camp, Elise took the time to learn from the stoic man. She asked questions, listened to his answers, sat, mouth agape at some of the more profound stories Sten would opt to share, and soaked it up like a sponge. Elise would challenge some viewpoints of Sten's, those concerning mages and the general people of Ferelden, but mainly because she wanted to hear his side. Elise was eager and undeterred by Sten's brusque, aloof, and outwardly annoyed demeanor. She just saw a person--a person who she could learn from. And I think Sten responded well to that curiosity and open-mindedness, even if he didn't show it all that well.

How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

So, to start, Elise doesn't remember her family very well. She was taken to the Circle at young age, barely able to remember how she even came to the tower. But, her found family is everything to her and she would die, be tortured, and branded every manner of beast if it kept them safe.

And I'm not lying when I say that Loghain's love for Anora, and she for him, was what made Elise want to spare him.

In that moment, as the teyrn knelt upon the floor before her, sword limp, eyes downcast with all manner of emotion, and blood dribbling from wounds she had managed in a duel unnecessary, unfair, Elise didn't see a traitor, a murderer of Wardens and kings, or even a man whose sense of duty had been so warped that it led him astray.

No, she saw none of that. Instead, she saw a father--a father of both daughter and country.

Elise drew her lips tight, tasting the salt of her sweat and a hint of iron. Her hand shook upon the hilt of her sword, suddenly feeling too heavy, too much as she continued to keep it trained upon the defeated man. All eyes were upon her, their gazes like wildfire and bramble--burning, piercing, anticipating. Yet, she could not move. She could not do it.

She could not take a father from his child! She could not! Not when it wasn't necessary! Not when the Queen had asked, pleaded with tears in her blue eyes for a way out of this foolishness, for an end to the constant suffering! There was a way! There was!

"I--", Elise began, as shaky as her arm that brandished a sword instead of a staff. The tremors increased as the wildfire upon her back blazed, and her grip faltered, sword plummeting to the ground with a harsh clang. "I...won't kill you. I accept your surrender. I accept."

There were gasps and whispers of disbelief, but she blocked them out as tired eyes traveled from that abandoned weapon to her face, searching, seeking, and quietly suspicious. But, before any words could be uttered between them or explanations could be voiced, there was a shout--a familiar, but dreaded shout of anger, of disbelief, of betrayal most foul. One word. Just one, and it was sharper than her sword that lay upon the ground, coated with blood of thought up foes.

"What!?"

----

*drags hand down in front of my face in an elaborate fashion* And scene!

Thank you so much, friend! I hope you like the answers even if they are a tad long! :D

[feymaid]

tell me about ur dragon age ocs... like origin bebes to start pls... 🥺🤠💕💗🥺

Omg!! OKAy so I have like 4 wardens but I am still in the process of developing some of them so some descriptions might vary..

 Uliama Aeudcan~ 

- Princess Uli thought the WORLD of her older brother Trian. She would have done anything he said without question and always pictured being his right-hand woman when he ruled. The thing is, Trian was ruthless and reckless and would have made a terrible king. But she was so blinded by her love for him that she didn’t even see it. That’s one of the hardest things for her to come to terms with. While she was competitive with her brothers, she also felt comfortable in her position, it was more devotion to her father and Trian that drove her. She had a very cold and stoic relationship with Bhelen because she didn’t see him as someone who’d ever make a name for himself in the family. A part of her was frustrated at him for not making more of an effort to be better, and that certainly backfired. If Uli had been made Queen or Orzammar at the beginning of Origins, she would have been as bad if not worse than Trian. Uli's strengths come from her willingness to change. She is at her core, a justice-seeking person who gets the job done and she grows a LOT during her journey against the archdemon. She romances Zevran~

 Dakila Tabris~ 

- Dakila is a calm and collected soul. They are typically mellow and gentle, thinking more on the logical side. As a child, Dakila was pretty high-energy and would get into all sorts of trouble. Then one day they tried to pick-pocket a guard and were caught. While Dakila ran away from them, they guard send their hounds after them. The attack blinded Dakila in one eye and left them with an intense fear of animals and an even bigger distrust of humans. They decided to be a rule-follower and have stuck with the tradition of their people. They did NOT want to leave with Duncan at all and they were forced to leave the alienage by the right of conscription. They are very soft spoken and quiet most of the time with a sadness in the air around them. They romanced Morrigan~

 Marie Surana~ 

(lol sorry for the TERRIBLE quality on this one I couldn’t find the original) 

- Marie was born to Orlesian elven servants of the Empress and was originally sent to the Orlesian circle when she was around 3 years old when her magic sparked and scared the kitchen staff. My own personal headcanon is that in Orlais, many elves are killed as children so that they don’t have to desegregate the humans with the elves even in the Circle (since Orlais isn't kind to elves). But since her parents came forward to a noblewoman in their company for help, Marie was spared. She lived at the Oresian Circle until she turned 10. The Ferelden first enchanter visited and gathered a handful of children there since crowding had began to cause problems and Marie showed promise. She was transferred to the Ferelden Circle, where elves were far more commonly accepted as mages. Marie grew up as a child often thinking that she had a divine role to play. While in the Orlesian Circle, she mostly kept to herself while reading wild fantasy stories and picturing herself as the heroine. Although she was bullied, she would often exaggerate the tales to the First Enchanters so that it would fuel her own fantasies of having a “tragic backstory.” Moving to Ferelden was at first thrilling to her but she was quickly disappointed with the difference in culture (the aesthetic ya kno?). Her own sorrows became a coping mechanism in a grand fantastical tale she believed was playing out for her. She is an idealist, believing herself to be a tragic heroine who's story hasn't played out yet. She romances Alistair~ 

 Sylvester Cousland~ 

(he has no good art cus he's still new here) 

- The frat boy king of Thedas. Marries Anora for the clout. 🤪

[braincoins]

WIP Wednesday

Who wants more fantasy politics?! :D

           The woman blinked. “You’re saying the Queen of Ferelden owes her position to Kivral?”

           He nodded then looked back to Kiv. “What’s the queen say?”

           “That there’s a group of Wardens from Weisshaupt attempting to stir up resentment – and perhaps outright rebellion – against me. And while they’ve been doing that, I’ve been sending out those letters asking for help…” She shook her head. “We still have allies in the Landsmeet, but Anora says it’s pretty evenly split, for now. I can’t be sending out more aid letters though; it doesn’t make us look good in the eyes of the nobles. We’ll have to make do for the time being.”

           “You need aid and you seek the help of humans,” [REDACTED] said. “Is it any wonder they turn against you?”

           “My being Dalish certainly doesn’t help, I’m sure,” Kiv agreed. “But we do have human allies. Noble human allies, and that doesn’t count Anora herself, who at least warned me of what’s going on.”

           Alistair took the distraction to snatch the letter from her, scanning it quickly. “She’s also offering more coin and some hunting dogs,” he pointed out mildly.

           Kiv shifted uneasily. “I don’t like the idea of being indebted to the throne.”

           “We serve the people of Ferelden. ALL the people. Including Anora.”

           “It’s different. She’s the queen.”

           “She wants to help. Let her help. She’s at least half as stubborn as you are.”

           Guinevere turned her laugh into a cough.

           “I may not have a choice at this point,” Kiv conceded. “And as much as I prefer hunting the way I was raised to, it’s good to have options. And they could be guard dogs just as easily. I suppose I’ll have to accept.”

           “The coin, too,” he told her.

           She sighed. “I don’t…”

           “…like being indebted to Anora, I know, but we need it. For now. Think of it as a loan, if you like, that we can pay back once we’re able. We won’t get there without coin. Besides, she wouldn’t send what Ferelden can’t afford. You know that.”

           “The bigger problem is this group from Weisshaupt,” she said instead of answering, but he had a feeling he’d won the point. It was in the set of her shoulders, like a weight had just been taken off of them. A small weight, but every little bit helped.

           “They’re Grey Wardens, too, right?” Guinevere asked. “Why would they want people to dislike the Wardens?”

           “Not ‘the Wardens’,” Kiv explained, “just us. The Wardens of Ferelden. I have br-…”

           “We,” Alistair interrupted her quickly. “We broke away from the command of Weisshaupt, because we didn’t agree with how they do things.” He saw Kiv smile at him, and smiled back before adding, “We made ourselves answerable not to the First Warden but only to the people of Ferelden.”

           “To the humans of Ferelden,” the Wanderer said.

           “To all the people of Ferelden,” he told her.

           “And he didn’t like that,” Kiv summed up. “To put it mildly.”

           “So he sent people to get the Landsmeet to dislike you?” Guinevere asked. “That’s petty. How old is the First Warden, five?”

           “It’s not just that,” and he noticed that Kiv was smiling at Guinevere a little as she said it. The smile didn’t last long. “They’ll view Weisshaupt favorably. Not only will we be unlikely to get the help we need, but they’ll push for me – us – to resume taking orders from the First Warden again. Keep us on a leash.”

           “And by going to the Landsmeet with it, they’re pressuring Anora, too,” Alistair put in. “But with the Landsmeet split…”

           Kiv shook her head. “She’d be pissing off a large chunk of the Landsmeet no matter what she does.” She looked to the letter he was holding. “I think that letter is her middle ground: warning me about what’s going on without actually telling me which way she’s going herself.”

           “Anora would support you,” he said, “I’m sure of it.”

           “It’s moot until the stalemate breaks, one way or the other.”

           “Is this common?” the Wanderer asked curiously. “That you must deal with human politicking like this?”

           “Too common,” Kiv groaned. “I was trying to get us out of politics, but I suppose Ademar – the First Warden – prefers the political battlefield to a real one. He’s dragging us back in. And now I have to figure out how to get us through to the other side.”