#varric is the best friend we all deserve

[vaguely-concerned]

Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

[shivunin]

A Fool and His Gold

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,932 Words | CW: references to alcohol)

It was mid-afternoon, and Fenris was certain he was an unwitting part of some elaborate practical joke. 

He’d gone between the market and Hawke’s manor three times now, all three at her behest, and all three times she’d thanked him brightly, taken the package from his hand, and asked him for something else she’d forgotten. 

Fenris was no fool; he knew something was going on. He’d told her as much after the second errand, his grip on the brown paper packet too tight for her to take. 

“Why, I’ve no idea what you mean,” Hawke had told him, her eyes wide and wounded in that way she had, tears beginning to gather along the lower lid, “I’m—I’m hurt, Fenris, that you would accuse your dearest friend of such a—”

“Stop,” he said, letting go of the package at last and rolling his eyes, “No theatrics. If you don’t want to explain yourself, then don’t.”

“There is,” she said, “One more thing.”

Fenris stared at her. Hawke stared back, her expression back to her base expression of neutral geniality. Something shattered in the room behind her and she squeezed the door even more tightly closed along her side, smiling broadly. 

“What—”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, “But if you wouldn’t mind doing me one teeny tiny favor…”

Fenris’s armored hand tapped a rhythm along his thigh while he thought, but at last he rolled his eyes again. 

“I’ll save us both the trouble of the story you’ll concoct to convince me. What is it?” 

“Oh, Fenris, thank you!” she cried, bouncing onto the balls of her feet just enough that all of her jiggled faintly. He averted his eyes, clearing his throat. 

“Don’t. If you’re going to send me on some other fool’s errand, there’d better be something good at the end of it.”

“I promise there is,” Hawke said, taking a half-step forward and lifting her arm. 

She caught herself just in time—and he hated that even after all these years he could still watch her decide not to try to embrace him anymore. She changed the motion at the last minute, awkwardly fumbling a note from her pocket. 

“Last one, I swear it,” she said, pressing a hand over her chest. Fenris didn’t answer. He just took the page from her hand, rolling his eyes again, and walked away. 

But he was back now, nearly an hour later, and he swore if she asked him to fetch her one more thing he was going home to work on his reading. Anything would be better than climbing all the steps to Lowtown one more time. 

He lifted his armored hand, knocking on the door and noting the slight scratches in the paint precisely at the height he always knocked. Lovely. He supposed he’d have to account for that at some point. Or—perhaps he could start knocking with the other hand instead. Would she even notice if—

The door swung open, revealing the highly decorated room beyond and Hawke, wrapped in a red dress that was downright cruel to look at so close. Why would she—

“Surprise!” a room full of people whisper-yelled. 

“I—” Fenris began, the heavy bag still hanging from one hand, “What…is this?”

“It’s our birthday!” she said cheerfully, snatching the bag from his hand and walking away, “Or, well—it’s the sixth anniversary of the day you arrived in Kirkwall, best I can tell. I’m pretty sure you were the last of us to get here, which means this is the day we were all in one place!”

“What…?” Fenris stepped inside hurriedly, shutting the door behind him and grimacing at the living room beyond. 

“Well,” she said, handing off the bag to Isabela, who extracted three bottles of wine from inside and wandered off again, “None of the rest of you ever do the fancy parties with me at the Viscount’s Keep—”

“I seem to remember differently, Hawke,” Varric said, walking past with several glasses in each hand, “Have you forgotten that disaster of a Summersend party?”

“Varric, why do you think I’m wearing this dress again? It deserves better than the Summersend party to remember it by, doesn’t it? Now shoo, the table still isn’t ready.”

The dwarf sighed, walking away again, and she went on. 

“Save Varric and Sebastian, none of the rest of you ever get to go up there. I know you’ve a taste for the finer things, so I thought you’d enjoy a more sedate version. It’s just for fun, really. Window dressing. I mostly wanted to get everyone together and…well. It can be whatever you want, really. I planned for us to play cards somewhere that smells better than the Hanged Man, but if you prefer something else I can arrange that. ”

Indeed, all of them were dressed more finely than was normal for them, even when they weren’t planning on hauling themselves to some horrible fight or another. Isabela was in a dress that nearly matched her usual things, save the delicacy of the cloth and the addition of blue embroidery around the hem. Donnic wore a dress uniform, Varric and Sebastian were in tailored doublets, and…

Hawke in her scarlet gown, the lace hardly a barrier to the decolletage below. She had gold along her ears, hanging in drops from the lobe, and in the pins that barely held her curls in place. When she waved Varric off, it shone lustrous along her fingers, in the bracelet clasped around one wrist. Fancy, she’d said; it seemed an understatement to him, if not an outright lie. She seemed made of finer stuff than fancy could possibly describe.

“Don’t worry,” Hawke whispered, leaning close enough that Fenris could smell the faint hint of that perfume she always wore, “I got you something, too.”

“Is this not the gift?” Fenris asked, frowning at the room. 

He’d expected some kind of joke, but nothing like…well. This. 

“Oh,” she said brightly, “Yes and no! I meant that I found you some clothes, too, if you like. I laid them out in my room—not that you have to wear them. I mean you look—”

“No, I’ll…look,” he said, to prevent her from saying whatever it was she’d been about to say, and for a moment they stood and looked at each other. 

Foolish. Dangerous. Best to get moving. 

Fenris cleared his throat and walked away, heading for the stairs and her bedroom beyond. He hadn’t been in here since…since she’d recovered from her battle with the Arishok, he supposed. She’d been in a bad way then, and the room had been thick with the smell of sickness and blood. 

Now, it was lit by the sunset and the fire in the hearth, the room smelling of sage and anise, as she often did. The bed was made—a product of her maid, he assumed, because Hawke was steadfastly messy—and her clothes were neatly shut in her armoire. There was, in fact, a length of black cloth laid out on the trunk at the foot of her bed and Fenris crossed to it, his feet silent over the rug covering the hardwood. 

The fabric was soft in his hands, though sturdy enough. Parts of the lapels were stiff with silver embroidery that glimmered faintly when he angled it to and fro. He considered it for a moment, ignoring that part of him, deep but tenacious, that still flinched at touching fine things. 

Well—even if he hated it, he owed it to her to at least try the things on. 

They fit shockingly well, just slightly loose over his inner bicep as he preferred, for the lyrium was most tender there. Even the leggings, woven of some faintly stretchy fabric, looped just so under the arch of his foot. He’d truly intended to try them and then put his armor back on, but now…it seemed a shame to waste something so comfortable.

Even if he hadn’t asked for it. 

Several minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Fenris turned, still fastening the last of the silver toggles along the front of the surcoat. 

“Yes?” Fenris said, and the door cracked open. It was Hawke—of course it was—and one brown eye gleamed through the doorway, lit by the last of the sunset through the window. 

“Does it fit?” she asked. He spread his arms—not sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been for her to open the door, slide through, and shut it behind her. 

The fabric of her scarlet gown rustled when she crossed to him, the lace over the top of the bodice stark in contrast to her skin and the red of the silk velvet. Foolish, that he’d immediately recognized the exact shade of red; he wore it around his wrist every day, but that was no excuse. Hawke certainly hadn’t bought the thing to match that. 

“You look very…” she began and, uncharacteristically, stumbled over the next word. He should’ve said something, perhaps, and left—but Fenris waited instead. 

“Handsome,” she said finally, in a whisper, and reached up to touch the embroidery along his shoulder, “Black suits you.”

“Does it?” he asked, looking down. He didn’t move away from the touch, for all that he could barely feel it through the various layers of fabric. 

“Yes,” she said, and, with some of her more usual brightness, “But you know that, of course.” 

She’d moved too close. There were boundaries; there were lines they couldn’t—shouldn’t—cross now. They always kept a careful distance, always several steps away unless one of them was wounded, and they were never, ever in a closed room alone together. Not anymore—not for years now. 

But here they were now; and after everything with Danarius, with Varania…it did not feel as dangerous, as tight in his chest, to be alone with her now. There were words that they owed each other, explanations and apologies, but for the moment he could almost convince himself that such things had already happened at some distant point in the past, that she still felt the same for him as she had three years ago before he’d left her alone in this very room. 

Maria—Hawke—cleared her throat and tilted her round chin up. 

“Happy birthday,” she said, and Fenris scoffed. 

“Don’t laugh,” she said sternly, the corner of her mouth twitching, “Or I won’t give you any of the fancy wine I had smuggled in from Antiva.”

Fenris shook his head at her, but caught her hand when she began to turn away. It was warm against his, callused and scarred and wonderfully hers. He hadn’t felt her without the barrier of armor between them since…well. 

“Hawke,” he said, and she turned to look at him, her face limned golden with firelight, soft and half-laughing. It took effort, but he managed to clear his throat and go on. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he’d meant to say more: thank you for the clothes. Thank you for the party. Thank you for allowing me to stay. But he did not; he let the words fall without specificity instead, and Hawke smiled. 

“My pleasure,” she said, and, “Come on, before Isabela eats all the cake.” 

He didn’t untangle his fingers from his until he had to; just let her tow him on, down the stairs and into the noise and light of the room beyond. 

In the end, especially after tasting the wine, even Fenris had to admit: the party was worth the annoyance of the tasks that’d come before. Her obvious pleasure in his enjoyment was worth even more—not that he would admit so aloud. 

Not yet, anyway.

(For day 4 of @14daysdalovers: A Fool's Errand.)

[ungrateful-cyborg]

10 fandoms, 10 characters, 10 tags

Basic rules: choose 10 fandoms that you are part of/support, and choose a favorite character from each of those. Then, tag ten folks!

Tagged by: @miqojak! Ty! It didn't even take me half a year to get around it this time XD

In no particular order, except for the first one ever since I'm 16. Also finding 10 fandoms is kinda hard because I'm def not that active, or even a passive participant, in so many fandoms so you'll get a glimpse of my younger self instead :'D

And long post ahead so thank you in advance if you've taken the time to go through this list!

Kanon, from Saint Seiya

Look, this is the blorbo and if you see similarities between his backstory and Kazan's, no you don't. Mentioning either him or the manga is enough to get my friends to sigh and groan as they await the inevitable gushing/rant that'll follow (which reminds me that I haven't, actually, gushed about him or ranted about the manga in quite a while now). Which is to say, I love lonely sad villains/antiheroes and if you've ever seen me mentioning the forbidden blorbo, now you know who I'm talking about.

Emet-Selch, from FFXIV

At this point I feel like I should mention that I do not stand in favor of manipulating or killing people as a form of therapy :'D

A bit more seriously though, I think he's the first character I felt so viscerally about in the game? Like I never agreed with his views but going through ShB I really hoped we'd managed to bring him to our side. My tragedy-loving ass won't complain about how ShB ended for him, mind you, but still.

Honorable mention for Thancred too, whom I feel more and more attached to as times passes, and also Y'shtola but in her case it's perhaps more the fact that she's, in terms of behavior, very much My Type.

Madi, from Black Sails

There are many great characters in that TV show and if you haven't seen it, I can only recommend it to you. But really, Madi is my favourite of the lot and definitely the inspiration for Inge if I had to pick one.

Between her cleverness, her dignity, her integrity, her charisma, her dedication to her people and her cause and her curiosity about others, what's not to love about her?

Varric Tethras, from Dragon Age 2 / DA:I

I was hesitating between Isabela and Cullen, but then I remembered the Best Companion Ever and how could I not put Hawke's most loyal friend on the list? I love him, love his loyalty, how he stays compassionate despite all he goes through, his sense of humor, his honesty... Only wish we could have romanced him in DA:I, but on the other end I like his story with Bianca so I'm not too sad about not being able to.

Byakuya Kuchiki, from Bleach

In the spirit of this dash game I'll respect the rules and make a choice, but if I'd filled this list any other day, I might have put Grimmjow there instead :'D

Anyway. I love a stubborn man with a stick up his ass and too many (conflicting) principles despite a rebellious heart who needs to be almost killed to start thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, he could have handle a Situation better.

And I love this character development past that point.

He wasn't an inspiration for Wolfe, but they're very much alike in several aspect. Byakuya is, however, a lot better at keeping a straight face.

Lois Habiba, from Torchwood S3

I haven't watched Torchwood in a long time but I remember her. In fact I remember Lois better than I remember some of the main cast.

She was just a normal young woman who had managed to get a really good job and risked everything to do the right thing and idk. She was just a really solid character that deserved better recognition.

Dean Winchester. Do I need to say from where?

Look, I loved all five seasons of Supernatural. A shame they didn't add more later!

And with Dean it's a bit personal so I'm not gonna go deep in details about it, but let's just say that there's quite a bit of me that I recognized in him and I just want to give that man a hug.

Donna Noble, from Doctor Who

I'm not up to date with the new seasons/episodes so no spoilers please!

But hm, yeah. I think what I loved the most about how Russel T. Davies was directing the show was how real his everyday people turned companion felt, and while I preferred Rose when I was younger, the older I get, the more appreciation I have for Donna.

She's just so full of life and character, so brave and so unapologetic about being herself despite her self-esteem issues, but I think what I love above all else about her is how she always acted as an equal to the Doctor.

I'm gonna repeat myself but really, the older I get, the more I love her. And I really need to catch up :'D

Cain Hargreaves, from the Cain saga

Honestly I don't expect anyone to remember this manga XD It's an old one I read when I was a teenager and one of the few I kept despite not having re-read it in 10+ years. I don't remember that much from it but I do remember the ending quite well.

Anyways. Cain's a young earl with a tragic past, a strong sense of justice, more money than common sense, a love for poisons and a fear of commitment. Truly, what could go wrong with such a character?

Also:

"Have I ever failed a promise to you? - Yes, all the time." after his sister made him swear he'd come back to her alive is just perfect.

Spike, from BtVS

He's devoted, he's cruel, he's romantic, he's brave, he's pathetic, he's capable of taking responsibility for his actions... I love a multifaceted character and I've had a soft spot for Spike ever since I've watched the series for the first time.

I rewatched it not too long ago and it didn't age that well imo, or maybe I'm just more critical than I used to be, but I still think Spike is an awesome character and I love that it was in spite of Whedon's intentions for him.

---

And I believe that brings me at 10 characters for 10 fandoms! It strangely feels more like undressing in front of strangers than actually undressing in front of strangers :'D So obviously I'm gonna tag a few people to do it too:

@under-the-blood-moonlight @merlwybs-wife @voidtekarc @alannah-corvaine @ashenbun @zhauric @biff-adventurer @tea-and-conspiracy and @confusedtia! And frankly anyone else who wants to!

[jacklyn-flynn]

I finally got around to giving Varric the love and attention he deserves! I originally intended this to only be sweet and spicy, but the angst called to me and I couldn't resist. There will be a teaser under the cut, but you can read Inevitable in full on AO3.

TW: Forced sterilization that's eventually reversed.

After Hawke nearly dies, Varric realizes that being her best friend isn't good enough. She'd tried to tell him she loved him years ago and he brushed her off, convinced she could do better than him. He can only hope that he didn't ruin everything by not saying it then and that he won't ruin everything by saying it now. Anders is shocked to learn that he's missed his window of opportunity to confess his love to Hawke. He's upset, but Justice is furious.

“Pants,” she murmured, releasing his hair to push his jacket off his shoulders. 

She must have been more intoxicating than he’d anticipated, because he could only stare at her. “What about them?” 

“Are you gonna take them off or….” she trailed off expectantly. He shook his head to clear it and grunted in agreement. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” she teased, leaning back again. “Because if you haven’t we might want to stop for a quick discussion on how this all works.” 

“No, I think we’ve discussed plenty already, beautiful. The only words I wanna hear now is that delightful dirty talk you’re distressingly good at.” He shook his arm, trying to throw off the jacket while unlacing his pants at the same time. It was hard enough, but it became impossible when Max crossed her arms over her stomach and lifted the shift over her head. 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

So you mentioned how you leave Hawke in the fade, do you ever bring Varric with on that quest? (Maybe I'm just a sucker for angst ((which I totally am cuz for my canon warden I have her date a soft Alistair who is pissed and dumbs her when she makes him king and then she makes the ultimate sacrifice and Alistair is devastated he never got to talk it out with her)) so I always take Varric and Cassandra with cuz I think it's nuts that the game doesn't have him react in the fade to leaving Hawke. So I picture a dramatic speech like fuck this Hawke let someone else be the hero for once, you deserve to live. And Cassandra is there seeing someone she put on a pedestal and saw as an unstoppable hero met their end.)

I've brought a few different combos into the fade but my favorite combo is definitely Varric/Cassandra/Solas; Varric because of Hawke, Cassandra because of Divine Justinia, and Solas for the fade itself.

I love and hate the fade quest for a number of reasons, but the part of me that revels in angst just adores it, it's such a heartbreaking part of Inquisition's story. I keep Alistair a Grey Warden, so it becomes a final choice of either making him stay behind, or my Hawke, Ed... it's a brutal choice that ends with Ed staying behind.

The meta reason for making this choice is I love Alistair too much. I want him and my warden to remain together until the end so I'd leave nearly anyone in the fade just to save him. And I don't want to make him king just to avoid the hard choice; he never wanted it, and Rose wasn't ever going to force it onto him.

But from a story-telling standpoint, Ed staying behind hurts so much because that's literally his fear; if he had his own fear engraved tombstone in the fade, it'd say something like "Abandonment" or "Being Left Behind." It's one of the reasons he stays by Anders' side after the events of DA2 despite ending their romantic relationship, he can't abandon the man he's loved for years even when everyone tells him he should....until, of course, we get to the fade and he feels he no longer has a choice.

Ed never wanted to be some hero or champion, but it's so engrained in his identity now that he constantly feels the burden of sacrificing pieces of himself for others. He feels the guilt of every loss he's suffered, whether it was actually his fault or not. In his mind, no matter how much it hurts, or who it hurts, it's the "right" choice to leave him behind... he's read enough of Varric's tragedies to know how this goes.

I also headcanon that when Carver's made a warden, he goes back to Fereldan to serve under the Hero of Fereldan and becomes best friends with Alistair. So I imagine that's another reason Ed insists he be the one to cover them. He went to great lengths to keep his brother out of this mess [even though Carver protested every step of the way] and doesn't want Carver to lose his best friend, even though he would also be devastated to lose his brother, but y'know.... Ed's just like, "Tell Carver I'm sorry, and that I always thought the world of him."

Even as Alistair, who never got to know his brother and dreamed about meeting his sister only for her to reject him, argued back... it's no use. Ed made up his mind to face his greatest fear to save them, and Ash begrudgingly agrees with him.

As for Varric, it hurts to watch him ask happened to Hawke... and then to listen to him recount a story about the kind of person Hawke was... and to give him a comforting hug... it all hurts.

But... that being said, I have thought about possibly doing a run where I do leave Alistair behind in a worldstate where Rose made the ultimate sacrifice. Alistair lost her and became disillusioned with the Grey Wardens, only remaining because what else is there for him? When it comes to someone staying in the fade, he insists it be him. He faces the nightmare as Hawke and the Inquisitor escape, and mutters under his breath, "Wait for me a little longer, my love," before attacking.

...because why not break my own heart some more, y'know?

Whether I'll be brave enough to attempt that is yet to be seen.

[galpalaven]

oh! i hope these are still going?

how about oc codex 3 and/or 14 for kohava?

3. writing found in your OC’s trash can

A crumpled piece of parchment found near the wastebin beside the Champion's desk in Hawke Estate.

Fenris, Hello! This is a practice letter. You've been doing really well with reading lately. This is so much easier than it was trying to get Carver to read when I was teaching him (which, of course it is, you're an adult who can speak in complete sentences). I think my idea of swapping letters to get you in the practice of writing is a great idea, if I do say so myself. But what should we talk about? Gossip around Hightown? Varric's chesthair? Maybe I should start simple. I adore admire you. You are so strong and handsome clever that it amazes me every time we speak. Everything you do is graceful and magnetic. I can't keep my eyes off of you most days, which has made this whole 'teaching you to read' thing fun. I You enchant me. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm so scared to tell you how I feel, but it keeps me up at night. I want you and I want you to want me back. All I want to do is kiss you until neither of us can see straight. I want

The last paragraph is scribbled out viciously. The words are barely legible. The paper appears to have been crumpled into a ball and thrown.

14. something written about your OC, post-Trespasser

A letter found on the desk of Divine Victoria in Val Royeaux.

Leliana, I'm going North. I know you told me to keep my nose out of it, that Anders and I have already done enough for mages, blah blah blah. I don't care. I already failed Fenris once in the Fade. Even though we got Hawke back out of there—I won't let myself fail them again. We're being careful about this. We haven't heard from Kira in a while, but I assume she and probably the rest of the Wardens left from our little band of misfits have made it to Weisshaupt by now. The Calling hasn't beckoned either of us yet. Hawke and Fenris were already planning to head into the Imperium to follow up on rumors and stoke the embers of rebellion into a flame. You've known that the Imperium was always on my list. I won't let Hawke do this on her own. She's one of the best friends I've ever had, and whether or not I have my own grudges to iron out with this decision, I want to be there for her. To be there to see them both through to the other side of this. They deserve their happily ever after, as does every slave in Tevinter. I have freed the mages—it is time to focus my attention on helping the rest of my people. Wish me luck. —S

The seal of the Grey Wardens is stuck to the letter.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Family

Nobody’s allowed to know that this is the second time I had to post this. My shame will forever be hidden.  This is inspired by the fact that I’ve been having a bad pain day (read: week) and my friends and I were discussing on Discord about the probability of Fenris having chronic pain issues.  Our broody boy deserves the world. 

It was not going to be a good day. He woke up to pain singing sharp and clear through his skin, lancing deep into the tissue and muscle, sharp on the surface and aching in his bones. Fenris groaned and tried to become a tight little ball of nonexistence. The past week had been an excruciating venture with Hawke and company. The Wounded Coast had been dumping buckets of rain, the Bone Pit awful and winding, and to top it off, the last day of their trek back to Kirkwall had lovingly surprised them with a hailstorm, little sharp knives of ice slamming at their faces. Everyone had been miserable. Even Varric went quiet after the Bone Pit. The combination of cold, wet, and armor had seemingly finally taken its toll, and Fenris would be paying the price. Despite this, he still tried to force himself out of bed. Years of conditioning pushed him to keep moving. Not to let the weakness of his body overcome him. He got two steps before the pain throbbed violently through his skin, and he bit back a quiet whimper. He would be going nowhere, it seemed. Whether he wanted to or not, he was bedridden.

Beams of sunlight coming through his window marked the passage of time, morning stretching into afternoon. Fenris tried not to think, but the stillness of his body forced his mind into a whirl, thoughts and fears creeping in. If he couldn’t move, Danarius could come for him. If his body wouldn’t listen to him, he couldn’t fight. He felt weak. Putting his hands over his ears, he curled up tighter under his threadbare blanket and tried to force his mind under control. Afternoon swept into the evening, and a knock came at his door. His bedroom door. Glaring blearily, he pulled the blanket down just enough to see Varric standing there, his expression sympathetic. Fenris growled tiredly. “Go away, dwarf. Not today.” Had they had a game today? He must have forgotten. The pain swept through and tried to carry him away again. “Sorry Broody, no can do. We were missing you at the Hanged Man, and you’re always punctual. I’m not the only one who came to check up on you.” Varric sounded apologetic, almost guilty, just as Hawke poked his head through the doorway and waved. “Sorry Fen, Izzy, and Merrill have commandeered your kitchen. Have you eaten at all today?” Fenris turned his glare on Hawke, who just looked amused. Through gritted teeth, he responded, “...no. I have not.” He listened to the sound of chatter downstairs. He felt so helpless. Isabella’s husky laugh floated through the manor, followed by familiar stammering. It seemed Sebastian had made an appearance as well. Anders appeared at Hawke’s side. Fenris growled louder. “No. Go away, mage.” The mage shook his head fondly. “Not today, friend. You didn’t come to join us, so we came to you. I need someone to thrash me soundly at Wicked Grace.” He slipped into the room, holding something wrapped in a cloth. Hawke followed close behind. “Here, hold this. Under the covers. Er- cover, I suppose.” He held out the bundle. Fenris glared harder. Anders waited. Finally, exhaustion won over stubbornness, and Fenris grabbed the bundle. Instantly, he let out an involuntary sigh at the heat radiating off it, curling around what he knew to be a warming stone. A big one at that. Hawke shifted nervously. “Before you say no, I need you to know that my mother insisted. So I’m under her orders.” He pulled a thick quilt from behind his back, clearly lovingly handmade. “She have um. Been appalled at the state of your living. I helped. Mother’s not the best at sewing.” He opened it up, holding it out towards Fenris. “May I?” The elf nodded, his mood slightly better with the stone soothing his skin. With a practiced hand, Hawke flicked out the blanket, draping it neatly over Fenris’s form. It smelled of dried lavender and meadowsweet, a scent Fenris usually associated with Hawke. “It was supposed to be a Wintersday gift,” Hawke said quietly. “But it got finished early and you seem like you might need it.” Hawke and Anders left the room, Varric coming in to sit on the bench in front of the fireplace. “I…I don’t understand,” Fenris said, his voice barely a mumble. “Why are they all here?” The dwarf glanced back at him. “Because they care, Broody. Like it or not, we all care. I’m not gonna say the ‘L’ word because that’s gonna make you vanish into thin air, but we care about you. It’s been three years, and even Blondie relatively likes you, even though you two fight like cats.” He sighed, looking back towards the fire. He rested Bianca against his knee, absentmindedly running his thumb across the wood of her stock. “You’re not gonna like hearing this, but you’re not alone, Broody. Not anymore. You don’t have to hide your pain from us. I know you will because you’re stubborn as shit, but you don’t have to. You’ve got a family of sorts, for better or worse.” Fenris curled tighter around his stone, staring at a wall. He didn’t answer, and Varric didn’t prod him for one. They stayed in comfortable silence, for a little while. Until Merrill burst in, Isabella and Sebastian following behind. “We made dinner! Well, I made dinner, Izzy stood there and stole tastes of it.” “I was testing to make sure it was properly seasoned, Kitten.” Sebastian laughed. “I don’t think multiple spoonfuls in a row counts as ‘testing’, Isabella.” They chattered happily, filling the space with an oddly comforting amount of noise. Cheering went up as Anders and Hawke reappeared, carrying a small side table from somewhere in the depths of Fenris’s manor. Dinner was quickly revealed to be a pot of stew, bowls passed out and benches rearranged in a semi-circle around Fenris’s bed. Varric produced a pack of cards, and the lot of them bickered good-naturedly as they ate and played Wicked Grace. Fenris glanced around, propped up on several pillows that Aveline had supplied, coming in late from her duties as guard captain and thrusting them upon him with an arched eyebrow that brooked no argument. It felt strange to have so many people in the often lonely space, filling it with warmth and light. Somehow, the presence of his friends seemed to ease his pain, just a little. Just enough to take a bite of stew, and silently wonder at the family he seemed to have collected. Across from him, Varric took in Fenris’s expression and grinned.

[littlegalerion]

Ten Characters, Ten Fandoms, Ten Tags

I was tagged by @sheirukitriesfandom ! Thanks!

1.) Vanus Galerion (Elder Scrolls Online)

Picking just one character from that game is so hard. Abnur Tharn was an extremely close second, but Vanus took the cake. I don't really know how to explain why he is always top dog without getting too personal, but he made a really difficult time in my life bearable, which means a lot when you're only half alive.

2.) Varric Tethras (Dragon Age 2)

Yeah, everybody loves Varric. I mean how can't you? He is either that supportive best friend you always wanted or he is the reminder of who you always strive to be. Plus this poor child... If you've never taken the chance to properly look up his past, sit down and have a read. He deserves all the happiness in the world.

3.) Wrex (Mass Effect)

I love him. I just absolutely adore him. Everyone says Garrus is the ultimate best friend or romantic option to Shepherd- no, it's Wrex. I will die on that hill.

4.) Abel Nightroad (Trinity Blood)

Abel...did the same for me as Vanus did, and the entire series as a whole is just fantastic. Sadly its a very broken series. The anime is only ok, the manga was never finished in English officially (to my knowledge anyway), but the Light Novels are the BEST way to go, yet they are very underrated and unknown to most.

5.) Dionysus or Mr. D (Percy Jackson)

Honestly wasn't sure if I should include him but then remembered my own wedding invitations featured me holding a staff with a flaming pinecone on top because of him. My Olympian parent in the PJO universe, I ended up reading the series as an adult and around the time my therapy sessions and medicine started to sink in- Mr. D's handle on mental illness just really spoke to me. Plus he's hilarious. If you work in any sort of educational program with kids, you'll understand.

6.) Makos (Neverwinter MMO)

I just think he's neat. Can't wait to see what the future has in store for him, no matter how badly it rips apart my or my cleric's hearts.

7.) Halsin (Baldurs Gate 3)

This man doesn't even have a fully developed story yet, we only know scraps about his past from datamined audio which could be cut and scrapped anyway, and I haven't even played the game. But you ever watch gameplay, see a character, and instantly it just clicked with them? That's Halsin for me.

8.) Crookedstar (Warrior Cats Saga)

Get ready to get punched in the gut by pre-teen years lived in 2010 era! Loved this series as a kid and still do- not the current version, but the original four arcs are still perfection. Crookedstar has always been my favorite. His Special Edition novel is a great read! Don't want to say too much and spoil it.

9.) Starscream (Transformers IDW Comics)

Maturing is growing up and reading the Transformers Comics, after years of the great cartoons. Always loved Starscream for just how terrible he was, but then you read the comics and see just what drove him there and the constant mental hell he lives in now... I'll always love you, Scream.

10.) Aslan (Chronicles of Narnia)

I don't understand why I'd need to explain this. It's Jesus' fursona- why wouldn't I love Him. Plus the books....oh the books are so good.

Well that was fun!

I tag @foxyhearts @godlessbroadcast and anybody else who wants to do this! (I don't have enough for ten tags...)

[rhyske]

oh my god, Belphie is such a sweetheart! I love the little black spot on his nose and it looks like he has eyeliner and that is too cute! oh so when i called him escape artist i wasn't too far of huh? haha

I have 3 cats and one was an accident. My mom wanted a ragdoll so we got Tex, and we also got Slinky (a black house cat) so she would have a friend. Then I found a grey stray in my village and I took him in and named him Totmes, my baby. the girls don't like him very much (eww boys!🤢). Totmes and Slinky love the balcony but especially Totmes, he'll be there all day in the sun and I worry the sun will melt his brain or something.

So far Mass Effect is all right but I think I've come to the conclusion that I like fantasy more than sci-fi but maybe I am wrong and I'll be obsessed with it in a minute. The romance options for ME1 are... not great but I am planning to romance Liara in the first one at least and see how it turns out and then I might pursue someone else when the options open up in the second game. My brother played femshep and romanced Garrus so I want to do something different than that even tho he's so cool. For roleplay purposes I'll have Garrus as more of a best friend character to my femshep.

that's how I approached it in dragon age too. Varric was Hawke's bestie and Fenris was OBVIOUSLY the romance option cause he's just that good imo. In inquisition, Dorian was Lavellan's best friend and Solas was her romance option because of the DramaTM.

I try to play my characters as separate from me so sometimes I choose the mean option and I'm just like I'M SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO BE MEAN BUT SHE WOULD SAY THAT AAAA. Lavellan was pretty grumpy at the end... well the beginning too because she never wanted to be the inquisitor.

ANYWAY mass effect has been difficult because the full dialogue isn't really what i expect from the little text option. sometimes it feels like the choices doesn't matter? idk but i'll figure it out!

this is the first time I've properly played D&D so it's a bit of a learning experience for me! what did you use to play as? ^^ 💜

He's precious 🥰 Haha, yeah, no, literally half an hour after I responded to you I found the front door open and him nowhere to be found. He's safe, he realized we found out and came running back 😂

Does Totmes have a lot of brain cells? Could be they are actually melting. I joke that Belphie killed his last brain cell when, the first day we got him, he forgot cars have windows and tried jumping out, only to smack his head into the window. I love when cats kinda choose you as their owner and not the other way around 😆 Your cats sound so precious 💕

I definitely think ME1 is the weakest of all the games. I wasn't super invested in it my first time around (and it's still a bit more of a chore to get through whenever I replay), so I don't blame you there. Just hold out until ME2, it's the game that made me fall in love with the series. Yeah the romances...are very lacking in 1. They branch out so much in 2 and 3.

GASP YOU ARENT GONNA ROMANCE GARRUS??? As someone who is a rabid Shakarian fan and can't romance anyone but the dumb turian boy, I am obligated to say you are making a mistake 😂 But if Garrus didn't exist, I'd probably romance Liara so 😆 Thane is also a good contender, you'll meet him in 2 😏

Dorian was my Lavellan's BFF too! I always imagine one going to the other like "GIRL GUESS WHAT." Tali/Liara always end up being my Shep's BFF. I imagine them having girl nights and gossiping a lot 😆

I didn't like how Inquisition just....ignored your origin. Like, when you play as a Lavellan, you don't follow the Maker. You might not even know how most shemlan cities operate! And you want me to be your religious idol??? No thanks! But nothing is ever done about it and it's frustrating.

I always tend to play as if I was in the MC's shoes. And it's helped me learn a lot about myself, tbh. But I can't be mean to most characters cause it makes me feel bad 😭 Unless they deserve it.

Choices do matter (: You'll see your choices echo through the games, in what ways you can approach missions (Paragon vs Renegade) and how people remember you (if you were rude or polite). How much attention you put into your teammates is a big mechanic in 2, for example. It's hard to see how your choices change things until 2, since y'know, first game and all. Keep at it!

I played as an elf rogue my first, and only time, playing DnD. That was my first ever exposure to DnD, so I knew nothing. Now that I know a lot more, I wanna play again and really lean into the roleplay and the shenanigans. Who are you playing as? :D

[manydrabblesofthedas]

Reddit Prompt: Cullen Isn’t Blind

Prompt: A Hard Truth

"Why would the Herald keep this from us?"   Cassandra was not angry but more concerned that there was more she was hiding.

Leliana and Josephine seemed to be digesting the news that the Herald was the adopted daughter of the Hero of Ferelden.   Cullen had a neutral expression.

"You shouldn't be surprised, less than a week ago she was in a dungeon being threatened with a trial and execution." Cullen told the trio of women.   "Naturally she would reach out to the only people that she thought would try to help her save the woman who loves her as her own child."

"We would have helped her!" Cassandra projected.

"Does she know that?" Cullen barked back.   "I'm not foolish as some think I am, Elinya Surana is not even fifteen years old." That news surprised all three women, causing them to become paler.  "She doesn't know who to trust, but Varric is the most likely the one she sought the help from." Cullen was already quick to grab Cassandra before she could storm out.   He was in what could be in Knight Captain mode, he wasn't let anyone out of this room until the situation had a plan of action.

"Let go Commander."

"No, I won't let you lash out at Varric for Surana seeking the help of someone she felt would and could help her."

"A family is dead Commander." Josephine finally answered.

"And what did your people find?" Cullen directly asked Leliana.

"They were doing unspeakable things to Tyria Surana among others, there were signs that Elinya may have been their prisoner at one time."   Leliana managed to say calmly despite the utter rage she felt.   Tyria was her best friend, she would admit to having loved her too.  She wanted to do unspeakable things to the captors but they were all dead now thanks to Zevran.    On a professional level she could respect the work he went into making their deaths excruciating.

"Ellie," Cassandra finally said almost quietly but firmly.   "She said the Hero of Ferelden called her, Ellie, it's what she wanted to be called."

Cullen grip laxed at feeling Cassandra calm  somewhat.  "Then they received the justice they deserved."   He still loved Tyria after all this time, and for her to experience--he is certain he should send a thank you to Zevran Arainai.

Despite the situation, no one could disagree with that statement.   Leliana and Cullen shared a look and she nodded understanding the sentiment.   Leliana would make sure to send their thanks and inquire about Tyria’s health and how to reunite mother and daughter.

"We need to aim to do better with The Herald," Josephine finally broke the silence.  "She will be going to The Hinterlands soon, this might be the best time to plan for Cassandra to try to build a bridge.   While the rest of us will work in our own ways to build a relationship with her."

[writingfromkitchenator]

Nothing is Wrong

A Dragon Age Fanfic

Anders x Fem!Hawke

Words: 5,886

Warnings: Angst, small bit of fluff, wounded Hawke

This is my first Dragon Age fic!  I’ve fallen hard into the fandom and just had to get at least one fic out of my head, so hopefully you can all enjoy (even though it is rather angsty).  This is set in Act 3 of Dragon Age 2.

As always, feedback is highly appreciated.

She knew there was something wrong.

She kept telling herself that there wasn't, that there was enough mess for her to clean up in this city as it was, but Maker forbid the thought wouldn't leave her alone.

It always returned the loudest in the quiet moments, where she had to walk away and find something to do less she actually look at it closer, but then it started to invade the louder moments too, a simple glance or comment and the thought would tumble forward.

There isn't anything wrong, she kept telling herself, we've worked too hard for this.

Yet it persisted through problem after problem in the city, bitterness creeping through into her words as more and more people asked for help.

She had her own problems, couldn't someone fix those for her?  Give her a break?

Still, with a shrug and a smile that was fooling no one close to her, she kept going.

There wasn't anything wrong.

It was Varric who found her first after a particularly nasty fight out on the Storm Coast, tucked as far away in a corner of the Hanged Man as she could be, a half empty tankard in front of her.  He was good at finding her, always seemed to know who to ask or just where to go.  She should ask him sometime how he managed it.

He put down a second tankard in front of her, his hand resting easily on his own, gaze kind but worried as he looked her over.  “What's going on Hawke?”

A frown creases her forehead slightly and she drains the rest of her tankard before pulling the other forward.  “Nothing, just saving the day, as usual.”

But Varric knew better. The damned dwarf always knew better. “C'mon Hawke, even Daisy's noticed you haven't been yourself lately, Andraste's ass, Rivaini even asked why you didn't respond to her joke earlier, so she has too.  What's wrong?”

Hawke remains silent, the growing worry twisting her stomach, making her suddenly want to be anywhere but here, but she finds herself frozen in her seat, unwilling or unable to move, she's not even sure anymore.

Varric looks her over, looks over the tired eyes, the tense jaw, face covered in dirt, a cut down her cheek from a knife that had nicked her earlier, another, deeper, wound bandaged on her arm, or, as makeshift as Hawke could get it.  He knew it was more than the wounds, more than the city slowly destroying itself around them, he'd only seen her like this once before and that was after Leandra died.

He waved to the barman for more drinks, keeping an eye on the slight shake in Hawke's hand as she rose it to her lips.  “You know, if Blondie saw you like that, he'd flip his lid.  You know he hates seeing you with any sort of blood on you.”

Hawke's jaw clenched and she swallowed thickly, forcibly keeping her gaze away from him.

“Ah,” Varric sighed. “Things not going the best right now?”

“There's nothing wrong.” The words sounded rehearsed, even to Hawke's ear, causing her to purse her lips and drain the rest of the tankard in one go.  “I told you that already.”

“And I believe I already said it was bullshit,” Varric ignores the small pleading look she gives him. “We can do this dance all night, one of us might even get drunk enough to say something else for once.”

Hawke gives a derisive snort, quickly taking the new tankard from the waitress.  “These are my problems Varric.  You don't need to worry yourself with them.”

“What?  After everything we've dragged each other through?” She shoots him an exasperated look.  “I think I owe you a thing or two by now, probably even a lot more than that.”

Finally, a small smile finally tugs at her lips.  “You mean a lot more than that.”

“Cut me some slack,” Varric grins.  “I'm only one dwarf after all.”

Hawke gives a light chuckle and, for the briefest of moments, her shoulders relax and Varric sees the Hawke he knows return, but as the silence drags on between them, the tenseness returns, her eyes turn sad and solemn again, a cloud returning over her head.

“Talk to me Hawke,” Varric finally said softly, edging a little closer to his friend.  “Tell me what's going on so we can fix it, or go punch someone up about it even.”

No smile graces her this time, her eyes closing as she sighs deeply.  For a moment, the light around them flickers, and Hawke looks a lot older than what she was, she looked like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and she was about to crumble beneath it.

Varric waits, knowing she needed time.

“Have you…” She finally starts, but swallows, looking pained, worried, like voicing it out loud would wound her more than any blade or spell could.  Her voice drops and Varric has to strain a little to hear it over the sound of the inn.  “Have you noticed anything off about Anders lately?”

There it was.  His question answered in hers, the weight of her worry truly showing, even as she drowns it in the mug of ale.

Varric wanted to lie, he wanted to tell her that Anders was his usual self, that maybe she was just stressed with all the mage and templar stuff happening and all the pressure that was being put on her.

But he couldn't. Varric knew better and he owed Hawke the truth and the truth only, no matter if it just made her worry more.

“Hawke,” His voice is soft and Maker help him if anyone heard him like this.  “I promise it's not just you.  Blondie…Anders has been rather grim lately, I've tried asking him about it, but he always shrugs it off or changes the subject.  Whatever it is though, I promise, it's not about you.”

She sighs heavily and Varric watches as the weight of this seems to crush her just a little more, his heart aching for his friend.  “I get the same response.  I keep telling myself it's fine, but it's not, not really.  It's like…it's like some part of him has changed, whether that's because of Justice or not, I don't know, but…”

Hawke falls silent for a long moment and Varric waits for her to mull over her thoughts, knowing that this was hurting, that she needed to take a moment just to process how much she was willing to say it out loud.

“It's like he's saying goodbye.” She said finally and there was the briefest flash of a tear in her eye before she wiped it away.  “I just want him to talk to me, to tell me what he's doing.”

“What if you don't like the answer?”

Hawke glanced at him, her expression pained.  “Then I'll still know the truth.  I can deal with what comes with that after.”

She pulls her gaze away and downs her drink again, Varric pushing his own second mug in front of her. He knew, more than any of them that she wanted this to work, more than she ever let on.  Maker dammit it all, he wanted it to work for her, Hawke's life had been anything but easy or simple, and she deserved to find happiness in something.

“Maybe we should tie him up,” Varric suggested half-heartedly.  “Torture him till he talks.”

The laugh that left Hawke was bitter.  It was awful, pained, and Varric silently hoped he never had to hear it from her again. “If I thought that would work, I promise I would do just that.  If it didn't hurt so much when I just look at him lately, I would-”

Varric practically hears her teeth click together as she cuts herself off, drawing in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly, her eyes closing so she only has darkness to look at and whatever expression Varric was watching her with.  “What's happening to me Varric?”

His look was filled with pity, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn't help it, even as he silently berated himself for it.  “You're working through it, it sucks, but it happens to the best of us.”

“Working through it,” She said it numbly, ignoring the taste it left on her tongue.  “I feel more like it's eating me up inside, like it's killing me.”

They sit in silence again and Varric watches as she wipes away another frustrated tear.

Dammit Hawke, he thought, why did this have to happen to you?

Varric sighs and stands, causing her to look at him.  “Where are you going?”

He shoulders Bianca. “I'm going to go talk to him.”

“Varric-"

Hawke freezes halfway as Varric holds up his hands, his expression gentle.  “Just talk, I promise.  Maker knows you've got enough on your plate without having to pry chickens teeth out of him.  Just let me deal with it, okay?  He won't know you've said anything.”

She stands there frozen for a long moment before she finally sinks back into the chair, looking tired. “Okay.”

He gives her a final nod before passing another nod to the barman to keep her drink flowing and leaves, and a small shake of his head to Isabella who’s watching, concerned, from the other side of the room.

The cool air was of some relief as Varric worked his way through Lowtown, giving him some time to just think.  He'd never said it to anyone, especially not Hawke, but he'd always promised himself that if Anders had ever hurt her, he'd put an arrow between his eyes.  He never thought that he might actually have to indulge that thought further, and yet, here he was, making his way into Hightown to have a conversation that he just knew wasn't going to end well.

He liked Anders, he genuinely did, and, despite current circumstances, he did think that he and Hawke were a good pair.  He'd never seen either of them happier when they finally gave into their damned pining (which was a whole other story) and, despite his concerns, he had happily sat back and watched the two of them flourish.

Anders was what Hawke needed.  Hawke was what Anders needed.

It seemed that novelty was wearing off.

Varric shakes his head. No.  There was more to it than that, that would be far too simple, and from what he'd seen of the two of them recently when they actually went out together, was still almost their old selves.

Anders gaze was still adoring whenever he thought she wasn't looking, and she always beamed brightest when she caught him.  If he hadn’t been so happy to see is friend in love, then he would’ve thought it nauseating.

No, this was definitely something else.

Varric draws in a deep breath and knocks on Hawke's estate door, knowing if Anders wasn't here, he could just cut through her basement to the clinic.  He wasn’t really sure where would be the better option for this conversation.

Bodahn answered, greeting him warmly.  “Ah, Master Tethras, so nice to see you this evening.  I'm afraid the lady isn't in at the moment.”

“That's alright Bodahn, I was actually hoping Anders was in?”

“Ah,” The pause was evident, enough to give Varric some worry, before he nods.  “Yes, he returned just little while ago.  He's in the library.”

Thanking him, Varric makes his way inside, giving Bear a good scratch on his head as he passes him by the fire, and makes his way across to the library.

Anders was hunkered down at the desk, surrounded by a mix of books and a large pile of notes, one page he was furiously scribbling on.

“Man, I thought my work station was bad,” Varric half laughed.  “You should organize yourself a bit more Blondie, you might just find it a bit easier to work.”

Anders, who'd originally jumped at the sound of Varric's voice, now cast him a small smile. “That's probably not a bad idea, although, some notes are just random thoughts.  They don't really mean much in the grand scheme of things.”

“Every note means something,” Varric said, moving to the desk and resting his back against it. “Whether we realise it at the time or not, even if you just break it up into smaller piles instead of…everywhere.”

Shaking his head, Anders put his quill down.  “I’m sure you’re here for a reason Varric, apart from criticising my writing methods. Hawke isn’t here at the moment.” He frowned, as if realising this for the first time.  “That’s strange, she’s usually home by now.”

“She’s drinking the night away with Isabela,” Varric lied easily enough.  “I’m sure she’ll come home once she’s had enough to drink, or finally tires of Isabela flirting with her.”

“She really doesn’t give up, does she?”  Anders leans back in his chair, stretching, before he pauses and looks at Varric. “So what are you doing here?”

This was going to be his only chance, Varric knew that, he knew that if he stuffed this up then Anders wouldn’t talk to him again, at least not alone.  He had a brief moment of doubt, but the thought of the weight on Hawke’s shoulders quickly shook that moment free.  “I came to talk to you actually.”

“Oh?” Anders looked surprised, but there was no doubting the slight hint of suspicion behind it.  “Usually it’s me coming to see you.”

Varric chuckles, trying to throw off the tension shooting across his shoulders.  “Well, I thought it was about time I paid you a visit, it seems like a while since we just sat and talked.”

Anders seemed to think for a moment before he chuckled lightly.  “It has been a while, it’s amazing how time seems to fly by these days.” He gets to his feet.  “Take a seat by the fire Varric, I’ll see if I kind find us something to drink.”

He shifts a little uncomfortably as he sits.  It was still odd to him that Anders now lived here now, and while he didn’t blame Hawke, especially with the templars growing worse, it still seemed odd that he could just easily help himself to Hawke’s things.

Again, he pushed the thoughts aside, and let out a slow breath, knowing that he needed to do this for Hawke.

Anders returned with a bottle of wine, and while not normally Varric’s taste, he accepted a glass. “This seems bit a bit of an odd find for Hawke.”

“I think it was gift,” Anders said, sitting opposite him.  “Probably meant to be an insult from one of the nobles.”

Varric snorts.  “I’m sure they can do better than a cheap bottle of wine, either that or I give them far too much credit.”

“Oh, she’s received worse ones, trust me,” Anders said with a grin.  “I think this one she was just happy to receive something useful.”

“Only Hawke could pull this off,” Varric can’t help but chuckle.  “Save the city and also piss off most of the nobles.”

“Simply by existing,” A bitter note enters Anders voice.  “But none of them would say it to her face of course, they all still know that they wouldn’t be here without her.”

“Oh, I still know a couple who would,” Varric shakes his head.  “But Hawke knows that, that’s why she’s never let it bother her too much.”

Anders nods in agreement but doesn’t meet Varric’s eye.

Varric sighs and puts down the glass.  “Are you and Hawke doing okay?”

Blinking, Anders looks at him a little surprised.  “What?”

“You and Hawke,” Varric said it as lightly as he could, but the concern was still showing in his voice. “You both seem really tense lately. Is everything okay between you two?”

Anders looked at him for a moment before breaking away from his gaze, hiding something in his gaze that caused a brief flicker of panic to pass through Varric’s stomach.  “Why wouldn’t we be?  Things just aren’t…the best in Kirkwall at the moment.  I think it’s just taking its toll on both of us, she’s constantly fighting and dealing with problems and there seem to be more and more people in the clinic lately, not to mention the templar raids.”

He wanted to pretend that Varric’s eyes on him didn’t bother him, but he knew that the dwarf always saw more than what was really being said.  Varric’s gaze was intent, knowing that what was said was only the partial truth, and this bothered him even more.

“Everyone’s finding it hard at the moment,” Varric said, not bothering to hide the suspicious note in his voice.  “I don’t know Blondie, it just seems more than that.”

Anders sighs, as much as he was a little annoyed at Varric for getting involved, he didn’t blame him, and he knew that Hawke was worried about him, it was only going to be a matter of time before her best friend noticed.  “I…there’s just something I have to do, on my own Varric.  I can’t put her at risk any more than what she already is, something that I’ve told her, and I would appreciate it if you would take that as the answer too.”

Varric was frowning and Anders knew that this conversation wasn’t just some simple catch up, that he had come here with a purpose, and he knew by that look that Varric wasn’t just about to drop it.

“After all the shit we’ve been through together,” Varric said carefully.  “I’m sure you can give me more than that.”

Anders shrugs slightly. “It’s my business Varric.  Once I have it sorted, then…then it can all go back to normal.”

Varric’s frown deepens. “Before or after you hurt Hawke.”

He flinches and shakes his head quickly, trying to push the doubts rising in the back of his mind aside. “Hawke and I have had this discussion multiple times.  You’re not asking me anything that I haven’t already long asked myself.”

“So Hawke’s pain is worth whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I thought you were here to visit, not to interrogate me.” Anders said a little angrily.  “Whatever is going on is none of your business and definitely not any sort of content for your books.”

Varric holds up his hands and shakes his head.  “No books, and that’s a promise, this is way too personal for that.  I’m simply worried about Hawke, that’s all.  She’s hurting, surely you see that?”

Anders chest hurt.  He did see it and it hurt him more and more every time he did, but if he backed down now, if he turned away from what needed to be done, then it was only going to be a matter of time before he and Hawke ended up somewhere worse, before every mage in Kirkwall ended up somewhere worse, and both he and Justice couldn’t allow that to happen.  No matter the cost.

Even if it meant his life.

Varric’s gaze is worried but kind, and Anders had a feeling that he saw more going on with him than he would ever say.  “Look, I may not be best for relationship advice, but I know enough to say that you aren’t meant to keep such big secrets between each other.  It’s going to eat you both up until there’s nothing left.”

Anders didn’t get a chance to answer as the front door was swung wildly open, Bodahn barely having a chance to say anything before Isabela hurries into the room, looking half terrified, half worried.

“What have you two been saying to Hawke?”

Anders and Varric stared at her.  “What?”

“One moment she was just sitting there drinking, the next thing I knew she was on her feet, shouting like she was in pain, before running from the Hanged Man!”  Isabela looked between them.  “Honestly, I’m not sure what the two of you have been up to, but she cursed you both out.”

Varric was on his feet first.  “Which way did she go?”

“Towards the docks I think,” Isabela looks distressed, the most that either of them had ever seen her. “I’ve never seen her like this before and I was half terrified of what she’d do, which is why I came here first.”

A heavy feeling sat in Anders stomach, still sitting half frozen, mind racing at what Hawke was going to do to, at what she was going through.

Varric sighs as he steps forward.  “We better hurry then, we hardly need Kirkwall seeing the Champion breakdown in the middle of the streets.”  He looks back at Anders.  “Are you coming?”

This kicked him into gear, silencing any voice of doubt that was echoing in his mind as he jumped to his feet and grabbed his staff, calling for Bear as he hurries out the door after Isabella and Varric.

The streets of Kirkwall were oddly quiet, but there was an unsettled feeling in the air that only seemed to grow heavier the closer they got to the docks.

“Dammit Hawke,” Varric said under his breath.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“She’s been avoiding both of you, you know?” Isabella said.  “She comes in to drink a lot more than what she used to.  If I knew she would’ve told me, I would’ve asked, but I know how stubborn she is on these things.”

Anders watches Varric frown. “What do you mean she’s been drinking more?  When is she getting time to do that?”

“Late at night usually,” Isabela sighs.  “When she’s not fighting in the streets.”

“Late at night?” Anders asked over the growing lump in his throat.  “She’s been sneaking out?”

“I think she’s mostly there for the noise,” Isabela’s voice was quiet, the air heaviest at the docks. “The drinking’s just a side thing, most nights it’s only one, maybe two.”

“So she hasn’t been sleeping as well,” Varric sighs heavily, giving a side long look at Anders.  “Come on, let’s hurry up and find her.”

Anders knew that there was nothing else he could say, his own heart was too loud in his ears, remembering back to Hawke’s worst moment after she lost her mother, how she’d thrown herself almost carelessly into every fight afterwards.  Was he causing the same thing now?  Had he really done this too her?

He forced it away. Focus on finding her first, then he could deal with the consequences afterwards.

Bear paused by their sides, his ears raising, a small whine sounding from him, making them all pause.

There was no noise, there was an eerie silence throughout the docks, sitting heavily in the dark.

“Hawke?”  Varric’s voice carried through the air and they all knew that something was very wrong.

Bear whined again, taking a few steps forward, sniffing the air.

“This is not good.” Varric said.  “Hawke?”

“Stop talking,” Isabela hissed.  “The docks is never this empty this time of night, something is not right.”

“No shit,” Varric said. “But can you see Hawke anywhere? This is very unlike her.”

Anders could feel magic crackling through the air, licking his lips nervously, this being much more powerful than what he’d felt before, leaving an awful coppery taste on his tongue. Wherever Hawke was in this, she was in trouble.

“There’s magic here,” He said quietly.  “We need to-”

Bear started barking aggressively just as a brilliant fireball lit up the other end of the docks. Anders was running before either Isabela or Varric could stop him, blood pounding in his ears as his mind raced, going through too many possibilities of what could be happening.

The pull of Hawke’s magic was familiar as another fireball lit up the night and Anders fought Justice to the back of his mind, he couldn’t afford to lose control, not until he sure what was going on.

Bear’s barks were ringing loudly off the stone walls, adding to the growing tension in the air as Anders skidded to a halt along the path, having enough time to throw up a barrier before magic burned through the air around him.

Hawke was on the path ahead, fire burning around her casting large shadows on the walls.  There was fire in her hands, her own staff burning, and she was gathering magic again, building up more fire.  Normally, she was more careful, meaning that she didn’t know that Anders was there.

“Hawke!”  Anders called, briefly wondering what was causing her to fight like this, catching the briefest glimpse of her eyes filled with red, before his gaze moves to the end of the pier.

There was another mage and Anders realised that the dark shift in magic was coming from them.

“Fuck.  Blood magic.”  Varric growled from behind him.  “Why is it always blood magic?”

There was no chance to answer as Hawke launched another fireball and Anders couldn’t help but stare at her, feeling the strain in her magic.  Whatever this blood mage was doing, it was putting a massive strain on her mana, and he just had a feeling that this had been happening for a while.

Hawke’s fireball seemed to do nothing.

She was breathing hard, her expression furious, but she still didn’t notice as the others stepped forward, even Bear cautious, having been in these types of fights many a times. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

The laugh that came back was cold, cruel and anger began to make Anders hands shake.  “What’s the matter Champion?  Have you finally met your match?”

The yell of anger from Hawke was both filled with fury and desperation, but she doesn’t get a chance to launch another attack, the other mage launching their own attack, Hawke barely managing to block it and it was then Anders caught side of the blood.

Hawke was bleeding. Badly.  There were cuts on her arms and blood trickling between gaps in her armour, a deep gash down one of her cheeks.

With horror, Anders realised why this blood mage was affecting Hawke so much, and before he could even think, the mage launching another attack, he was in front of her deflecting the blow.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hawke growled from behind him, breathing hard.  “I can handle this.”

“Yeah, you look like you have it handled Hawke,” Varric was by her side quickly, Bianca firmly in his hands.  “You can tell us how you found this creep later.”

Hawke grits her teeth, her gaze locked on Anders, who was still standing in front of her. “Anders…”

“We’ve got you now, love.” Anders voice was quiet, his hand white knuckled on is staff.  “This bastard isn’t going to hurt you anymore.”

No one was going to take Hawke from him, especially not some insane blood mage.

Isabela caught Hawke as she staggers slightly, her eyes worried.  “Have you two got this?”

“Get Hawke away from here Rivaini.” Varric said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Anders begins to glow, his control finally snapping.  “And don’t take no for an answer.”

“Varric-”

The blood mage recovered from the interruption, a cry of rage leaving them as they launch on the attack, Anders deflecting the initial blows as Bear charges forward.  Hawke tries to shake of Isabela, but her grip was firm as she pulls her away from the fight, Varric firing quickly, lightning and fire igniting the air as Anders took charge of the fight.

Hawke clutched her stomach, her body aching, her mana all but depleted.  She knew that this was the worst she’d been in a while, she knew that she would’ve probably died if they hadn’t found her, but it wasn’t making it any easier to swallow.

She come out here for air, the sea air had always helped her focus, she’d been unable to handle the voice of doubt in the back of her mind anymore.  The drink hadn’t helped, having more than what she would drink normally, and she knew that she’d had some sort of outburst, but it all became irrelevant once she felt the magic at work at the docks.

Isabela rested her against a wall.  “Will you be alright here for a moment?”

Hawke grimaces.  “As long as another blood mage doesn’t turn up.”

“I’d laugh, but given current circumstances, it’s not funny.”  Isabela looks at her concerned.  “Will you be alright?”

“I’m not about to let blood loss kill me Isabela,” Hawke said and nodded back the way they came, where magic was still crackling through the air.  “Go help.”

Isabela disappeared before her eyes and Hawke sunk against the wall.  The mage had taken her off guard, opening up the wound on her arm, giving them extra power.  The ensuing fight had only made Hawke angry, that she couldn’t even get a break when she felt so low, and because of that, she hadn’t been as careful as she should have been.

Resulting in the other injuries.

Hawke drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to let herself worry about the fight, knowing that they could handle it, but it wasn’t easy, her doubts coming back loudly in her mind.

Groaning, Hawke gave in the emotion and started to weep, burying her head against her knees, her body hurting, everything hurting, and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to be anywhere but here.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, somehow it all no longer seemed to matter, even though she was worried for her friends, it all seemed so distant and she felt so alone.

Gentle, cool hands rested on her for a moment before she was being pulled into his arms, her head tucking under his chin as he gently hushed her.

“It’s over now love, it’s all okay.”

She let herself believe that, she had to, scared that the tears and the pain wouldn’t stop if she didn’t. The familiar touch of Anders magic washed over her, her wounds healing, the physical pain starting to ease, and for the moment, this was enough.

There was a small whine and she opened her eyes enough to see Bear step forward, licking her hand gently. She reached up and scratched his head, glad to see that he was okay.

“One of these days Hawke,” Varric said, strapping Bianca back to his back.  “You’re going to have a nice normal day.”

Hawke chuckled weakly, closing her eyes again, letting herself bury against Anders.  “Then we wouldn’t get to have any fun, sounds like a boring life to me.”

Varric watches grimly as Anders eases his magic off her, the worst of the wounds healed over, but it was very clear she was still hurting, the two of them sharing a look.

“Well, I think after this eventful night, I need another drink.” Isabela sighs, but smiles between them. “Are you alright Hawke?”

“You know me, I bounce back easy enough.” Hawke said through a faint smile, but she makes no effort to move. “I’m sure I’ll be as good as new in the morning.”

“Let’s get you home Hawke,” Varric said, nodding at Anders, who sighs and kisses the top of her head. “You can get some proper rest there and Blondie can finish patching you up there.”

Hawke groaned but made no real complaint about being dragged back to her feet, Anders not leaving her side and supporting her weight, Isabela taking the other side and they made a slow journey back to Hightown.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbles quietly at one point, all three of them sharing a look as Bear happily pants away at the front.  “I didn’t want to cause any trouble for everyone.”

“Don’t be like that Hawke,” Varric said.  “You’ve saved our asses enough times, it’s about time we paid you back one.”

Hawke mumbled something in reply, but none of them could make out what it was and decided it was best left unheard.

Isabela left them at the door, Anders managing to get Hawke through, Bodahn looking more than worried, Varric quickly brushing him off as they got Hawke upstairs, Bear whining from his spot by the fire as Hawke told him to stay.

Seemingly glad to be back in her own home and room, Hawke managed to take the few shaky steps to the bed and collapse down onto it, burying her head into her pillows.

“Will you be alright with her Blondie?”  Varric asked quietly as he and Anders watched her, Anders looking very concerned.

He nods, slowly. “Yeah, I’ll give you a shout if we need anything.”

Varric waits another moment before looking at Anders.  “Are you going to be alright?”

Anders glances at him, goes to say something, thinks better of it and sighs.  “Not by a long shot.”

Varric can’t help but let out a small chuckle, clasping Anders briefly on the arm before leaving the two of them be, the door closing softly behind him.

There was a moment of silence before Hawke shifted in the bed slightly, enough to be able to look back at Anders.  “I'm sorry.”

Anders gives a small smile and makes his way over to the bed, joining her and pulling her close. “You're okay, that's all that matters.”

Hawke sighs and rests against him, listening to his heart beat.  “Are we?”

He doesn't answer straight away, letting his magic build again to ease the remaining pain in her body, causing her to shiver slightly, even as she relaxed.

“Anders?”  Her voice is smaller this time, the same question hanging in the air.

“I love you Hawke, more than anything.” Anders said finally, his voice quiet.  “And I will do whatever is in my power to keep you safe, no matter the cost.”

Hawke tenses slightly but she resists the urge to look at him, half terrified, half worried of what she'd see.  “I love you too, which is why I don't want to see you get hurt. I want to help Anders. Please.  I don't care about the cost.”

His heart ached and for a single moment his resolve crumbled, taking in a deep, shuddering breath, one that caused her to raise her head, to finally look at him.  He held her gaze for a heartbeat before relaxing again, his resolve strengthening, and he gives her a soft smile, fingers brushing lightly through her hair.

“Tomorrow love,” He said softly.  “Once you've rested.  I'll explain everything.”

She took a moment to search his eyes and then relaxed, sharing his smile and pressing her lips to his. It was slow, lingering, a kiss worth a thousand promises and words.

Anders heart ached as Hawke settled back against, his arms tightly around her as she relaxed and quickly drifted into sleep.  He allowed his fingers to trail over her, his mind a million miles away as he thought, thought about what was to come, about the love of his life in his arms, and about all the things that could and should have been if the world had just been different.

For now though, this would have to be enough.  She was here and that was enough.

For this moment both of them could let themselves believe that there was nothing wrong.

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @greypetrel @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @layalu!! In turn, tagging (no pressure, always): @heniareth @zenstrike @dreadfutures @pinayelf @vakarians-babe @jtownnn and you, if you have something you'd like to share! It has been a Week and my brain is soup, but here is something I wrote in companion to the piece about Hawke lost in the Fade. I got to thinking about what might lead my Inquisitor to the role she plays in that fic, and it has been eons since I've written Emma (my darling!), so:

It was always cold at night in Skyhold, even if the magic of the fortress itself held the worst of the frosts at bay. 

Emmaera stood on the balcony, looking out at the moon over the snow, and tried to decide if she was ready to cry yet. It seemed like this ought to be the right time; she was finally home, such as it was, and she’d been thinking for ages how nice it would be to get home and finally, finally cry. 

Why couldn’t she do it?

“You’re still awake?” 

She didn’t turn when the door creaked the rest of the way open, but she leaned back when Cullen wrapped his arms around her. 

“I can’t sleep. Well—that’s an understatement, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” he said, and she could feel the tension in him before he spoke again. “Adamant?” 

“What else?” 

If she strained, she could see the ravens as they flew from Leliana’s tower. Not unusual, really. The spymaster and her folk sent letters at all hours of the night. But…well. Lavellan knew exactly who’d sent the ones winging from the rookery now. 

“I should’ve—” she began, but gritted her teeth against it. 

How self-serving to pity herself over the choice now; she, who’d sent Varric’s dearest friend to her death. How could she even pretend she had the right?

“You did the best you could,” Cullen told her quietly, squeezing tighter. Emma shook her head silently and gripped the cold stone of the balustrade. 

“There had to have been another way. I could have—I could have held it back. I could have—If I’d just had time to think—”

“We have discussed what happened a dozen times,” Cullen told her quietly. “I know it doesn’t help. I know; believe me, I know. But—”

“The eluvians,” she interrupted. “There’s got to be something there.”

“Emmaera—”

“I know it,” she said, for she had spent the last week thinking of little else. She had lost her father to an eluvian most of her lifetime ago. Maybe—maybe another could unmake this wrong. Maybe Hawke was still out there to bring back. 

“If I could just go for—for a week—”

“There is no time,” he let go of her, stepping to the side so they could look at each other. “If there was some way—if anyone deserves saving, it’s her, but there is no time. We march for the Arbor Wilds in under a month and you’ve excursions planned from tomorrow to then.”

“I owe her,” she told him, her voice ragged. She pressed one fisted hand—the one marked with the Anchor—to her chest. “I owe her everything. She gave up her life for me. She was supposed to be retired; Varric told Cassandra—oh, nevermind that. I can’t just leave her there, Cullen. What if it’s me someday? What if I never get to leave this, either, and someday someone will come out of the woodwork to ask me if I might help them with one last mission? What if you were the one who had to hear that I’d been lost somewhere, that they were very sorry but I was an acceptable casualty and—”

She couldn’t go on. Lavellan pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, willing her eyes to stop stinging. Behind her, she could hear Cullen shift and sigh. 

“I know,” he said. “I know the guilt you feel and—I wish I knew what to say.”

“Say I should go,” the Inquisitor said, back straight as an arrow, and turned to her Commander. “Say that I can leave and bring her back.” 

Emmaera sighed, slumping slightly, and reached for his hand. 

“Say that you would want someone to do the same if it were me,” she told her lover, and Cullen searched her face. 

“I wouldn’t let someone else do it if you were lost,” he told her quietly. “But—very well. I will go write a message for the others now. See what we can rearrange.”

“Thank you,” she told him, heartfelt. “Thank you.”

Cullen reached for her and folded her close, leaning his cheek against her hair. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said, and closed his eyes tightly.

[suck-on-a-fire-ball]

An envelope with the seal of the Inquisition arrives, the stamp perfectly in the middle. The following letter is in fine condition, it's only flaws in where the letter has been creased from folds and the occasional smudge. The letter is well-written, but look almost as if the writing instrument was too small for the writer's hand. It reads:

Dear Anders,

I grew up a few days away from Kirkwall, safe in a remote village that had very little Templar policing. Granted, very few wanted ask my mother Hissera, an ex-Arvaarad, if her little girl or husband were apostates. My father, Kost, often told me of what it was like for him living as a Sarebaas under the Qun. He was told it was similar in Circles, but I was luckily able to avoid that personal torture.

Thus, I am writing this letter to thank you for your contribution to the struggle for mage rights. I have gotten in trouble with others many times for calling you Anders the Just, but I am obstinate.

I also wanted to ask you a few questions, if you've a mind to. Does Justice really exist, and if so, is he as conscious as he seems? What was it like to be in a Circle? What was your experience as a Warden? I'm sure these are questions you have answered before, but alas Master Tethras seems to not want to give me a straight answer.

Thank you for everything.

Best,

Lady Inquisitor Amaara Adaar

(Information on Amaara here and here.)

Varric knocks on the door to Inquisitor Amaara Adaar’s chambers, sneaking inside just in time before a soldier can notice. He places a letter on her desk but says nothing, only giving her a meaningful look, perhaps a little displeased or worried about something... The letter is worn from its travel, and has no information on who it is for or from… How Varric got ahold of it, he remains silent about. The writing is mismatched; sometimes it’s small, sometimes it’s bigger, sometimes it’s frantic, and sometimes it’s thoughtful and calm. The words switch from formal to informal… and… there are signs someone might have tried to wipe away a tear.

Dear Lady Inquisitor Amaara Adaar,

I, Anders, received your letter not too long ago and was instantly surprised once I opened it. You see, the only letters I receive are ones from Varric and our friends. To know that somehow you have managed to impress Varric enough that this was allowed to come through to me (my, he truly is quite overprotective, don’t you think?) truly makes me curious about you. It also tells me you are a good person. Varric has a way of finding good people, even if those good people sometimes end up doing… stupid things.

I have to admit that the emotions I felt reading your letter were quite… intense. I think they were positive ones, though, so that is at least something! It’s not always that I feel anything positive as of late.

Anders the Just? I highly doubt I am allowed such an honourable title, my lady! (Nor do I believe Varric deserves the title of ‘master’ – did he make you say that? Don’t let him pull your leg! He loves jokes too much sometimes).

Being on the run sometimes means I do not see the full picture of the consequences of my actions. All I experience are my own thoughts, which are centred on the lives I have taken… and the many more this war itself has taken. Despite the guilt… I would do it again.

That, however, is not what you asked of me. You, a friend of Varric, and an honourable leader, is curious about me – and oh did I chuckle in disbelief reading such a thing. Did I not hear you have a mage from Tevinter there? If I were you, I would adore listening to stories about a place where magic is revered much more than about a man (me) dressed in ragged clothes having done nothing no one else would have done eventually too.

Let’s get into your questions then, shall we?

Does Justice really exist, and if so, is he as conscious as he seems? – Yes. It is difficult to explain in words because in all honesty, I do not think there are any words in any language to describe this phenomenon since it does not happen to everyday people. Have you ever had a voice in your head speak so clearly to you that you find yourself reacting to the thought as if someone had said it to you in real life? Perhaps you even chuckled, replied or nodded your head along to the thought. It is like that but with no control over the voice(s). He is equally as conscious as I am, sometimes more conscious than me as he doesn’t require sleep nor does he require my eyes to sense our surroundings. One time in Kirkwall I caught a candy Hawke tossed my way without turning to look at it – that was Justice in his… more innocent form. But do not think us separate. If you throw a log on a fire, the fire grows but neither can live without the other without being… something completely different, or dead.

Ah, it is difficult to explain. I’ve tried my best though.

What was it like to be in a Circle? – I appreciate you have not experienced this phenomenon, and I could not be more happy and relieved for you. Speaking of it hurts, and so I will be brief to give you an insight into the mage plight, and the sole reason for why our freedom is so important… It is like being locked in a cage with no way to look outside, your hands and feet tied, the key tossed away never to be found again, and with every move you make, the cage grows smaller as they try and repressed you until you stop moving, stop existing, and forget what life is like.

What was your experience as a Warden? – Now this, at first, was someone finding the key and offering me a hand out of the cage. So at first, my experience with the Wardens was great, and the Warden Commander taught me how to be a person. They even taught me how to mend a hole in my trousers that had been there for longer than I feel should admit (and I then proceeded to simply do it with magic instead; I wasn’t a very good student back then…). Our task was dealing with the aftermath of the Blight, which concerned speaking Darkspawn, feuding… ‘families’ within the Darkspawn, and very annoyed nobles (though the latter is usually part of any matter in Thedas, they put their noses in businesses they have no right to if you ask me – I’m sure you’ve noticed by now as well).

During my time as a Warden, I also met Justice and although we do not see eye to eye on everything nowadays, it was worse back then. We bickered a lot but alongside of that we also bonded. He became a close friend. Everyone became a close friend. That was, in my opinion, the best part of being a Warden; bonding with the others and becoming a little, tightknit community closely resembling a family. That community changed, though, when the Warden Commander disappeared. The duties of a Warden started to feel like a cage again and I wanted to find something that made me happy. This ultimately drove me to Kirkwall.

I hope I have answered… somewhat logically? Lately I find my thoughts get scrambled often; a side effect of having few people to talk with, I believe. Once I have an outlet for my thoughts, everything comes out at the same time. I apologize if that happened.

Nevertheless… I do think Varric has established a communication now, and so, if you ever find yourself in need of help or wish to ask more questions, use Varric to send me more! If he doesn’t want to (he is quite overprotective, don’t you think?), show him these words:

Just bloody do it, Varric. There’s no harm in one extra person talking to me.

Before I end this letter… let me extend my sincerest gratitude for offering me a positive insight into what the consequences of my actions were. There are days where the guilt eats away at me and to hear that one of our own sits on the throne of an organisation that is fighting to help save all of Thedas… it will mean a lot to the image of mages in Thedas. You are already doing more than I ever could. Keep fighting.

Take care of your health, Stay safe from demons, And watch the skies for dragons, Anders

[fanfoolishness]

under a new morning sun (3/?)

Turns out, being trapped in the Fade isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Rogue Min Hawke learned this at Adamant. Luckily for her, her lover Varric Tethras refused to believe that she was really gone.

Varric rescued Hawke from the Fade with the help of the Inquisition, but there were consequences. Spending time in the physical Fade has left them Fade-touched: Varric is now a dwarf who can dream, and Hawke has developed mage abilities. Together, they’ve returned to Kirkwall for a well-deserved rest.

Old estrangements, new powers, and ghosts from the past make for a homecoming that doesn’t exactly go as planned, even as the Inquisition’s mission marches on and Kirkwall struggles to rebuild. Hawke must find a way to master her newfound magic and strike a path forward with family, friends and Varric at her side.

Chapter 1: Rearranged | Chapter 2: Making the Rounds

Chapter 3: in the evening hour

“I’ve gotten better at cooking, you know,” said Hawke, peering at the market stalls in Hightown, searching for something for dinner.  She paused over a tray of Orlesian cheeses, breathing deeply in the cool fall air.  “Though sometimes, it’s the simple things in life that are best.  Bread and cheese for a first course tonight?”

“I’m happy for anything that isn’t hardtack,” said Varric.  “The last few days of the journey here were getting pretty grim.  You know it’s bad when an eel pie at the Hanged Man feels like a decadent treat.”

“Well, once I get settled, I’ve got some ideas.  Ooh, that looks lovely.”  She peered at a display of goat cheeses and fresh butter.  “There’s an Antivan recipe I want to try for a second course.  Needs loads of spices but it’s absurdly good.  We’ll see if they’ve got anything close here.”

“What’s this?  A Fereldan, talking about spices?  I’ve never heard the like,” said Varric.

“Come off it, you,” Hawke laughed.  “I know I might have been a rubbish cook before -- I mean, I’d never really learned how -- but I’ve gotten more adventurous.  You know the first thing I learned to make on my own?” 

“Besides Kirkwall Surprise?” asked Varric.  He made a face.

She chuckled.  “I’ve come a long way since those Sundermount trips, Varric.  No, the first thing was roasted rabbit, with herbed new potatoes.”

He considered.  “Sounds fancy.”

“Anders and I were desperate,” she said, shrugging.  “We hadn’t seen any game for ages, and were down to one last packet of hardtack with two days to the next town.  Molossus saved the day, brought us a brace of rabbits.  Anders wasn’t… well, you know how he was, leading up to what happened, and it was worse, after.”  She sighed, handing over a beautiful little goat cheese adorned with chestnut leaves for the cheesemonger to wrap up.  “So I tried to do something to cheer us up.  I thought, really thought, of how my dad and Carver used to do roast rabbit and chicken back in Lothering.  I cleaned them myself.  Sniffed every plant around camp until I came up with rosemary and elfroot and thyme.”

She handed the cheesemonger a silver and slipped the wrapped cheese into her bag, heading to the next market stall where Seheron peppers, Rivaini maize and Fereldan potatoes spilled forth in huge tubs.  She bundled together a few of the huge Fereldan potatoes, giving the stallkeeper a handful of coppers, but also picked up a few of the sharp, spicy peppers.

“Anders saw that I was really trying, so he started looking around, too.  I thought he was crazy to pull up a bunch of green stems, but when I realized they were potatoes I was so excited.  He got the fire properly hot enough with a bit of magic, and I was just guessing on the cooking times, really, but do you know, it’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life.”

Varric glanced up at her.  “You miss him, being back here.”  There was no hint of jealousy on his broad, open face: just a quiet understanding, something that made her love him even more.

Hawke smiled fondly.  “I miss everyone.  I know Fenris has to do what he’s got to do in Tevinter, and Isabela is glad to be free with her ship.  And I’ll always care for Anders, even if it’s all very complicated.”  She let out a long sigh.  “There were good times, despite everything, with all of them.”

“That’s Kirkwall in general.”  He reached out, brushing his gloved hand against her arm, and she leaned into his touch.  

Yes.  Good times despite everything.  That was Kirkwall all over.

***

Varric turned the key in the lock, opening up the front door to the Hawke estate.  Hawke had made some noise about needing to carry the foodstuffs and being unable to get to her key, but Varric wondered if she’d remembered to bring it with them this morning at all.  He couldn’t blame her.  It was bound to take some getting used to, being back.

They were greeted by the scent of a fire in the hearth.  Hawke stiffened, then set the sack of food down on the hallway bench.  “Bethany?” she called.  “Is that you?”  She kept onward to the sitting room, and was abruptly bowled over by a big brown blur that brought  her to her knees.  “Molossus!”  She wrapped her arms around the vast Mabari, weeping gratefully into his fur.

Varric followed, crouching down beside them and patting the old dog on the head.  Molossus’ muzzle, once coal-black, was now snowy white, and his eyes were rheumy and gray.  The bulk of him had shrunk some with the years, and Varric could now pick out the shadow of his spine beneath the glossy fur, but the nub of his tail wagged as furiously as ever as he slobbered all over Min’s face.

“Good to see the old boy,” said Varric.  “I wonder if he’s still any good at Diamondback?”

“Was that you who taught him that?” asked Bethany, coming in from the drawing room.  “You know, he’s getting better about his tells in his old age.  I’ve been very impressed with him.”

“Bethany!” Hawke crowed, extricating herself from the floor and the still-wagging Mabari.  She grinned at her sister and hugged her, closing her eyes and resting her head on Bethany’s shoulder.

Bethany returned the hug until the elder Hawke laughed in protest.  “You’ll squish me to death!”  The two sisters embraced for a moment before Hawke pulled back, wiping her eyes.  “It’s been too long,” she said fiercely.

“Too long by far,” said Bethany.  She let out a long sigh.  “Did you two get in all right?”

“Yes, yes.  We only ran into a few nests of bandits on the way, and we were more than enough for them.  But what about you?  You went after those darkspawn alone?”

“Not completely alone.  Molossus was with me,” said Bethany.  “I know he’s getting on in years, but he’s still quite the keen watchdog.  There weren’t many.  Just enough to be a problem for the colony on the Wounded Coast.”

“Colony?” Varric asked, raising his brows.  “What are we talking?  More Tal-Vashoth?”

Bethany shook her head.  “There’s a small group of mages that escaped from the Circle living out there.  They’ve built a small village in some of the more secluded areas, and without the templars to harass them, they seem to be doing quite well for themselves.  But they’re mostly healers.  Darkspawn were new to them, and I wanted to teach them how to handle themselves, should the beasts make another excursion here.”

“You’re all right, then?” asked Hawke, a tinge of anxiety sneaking into her voice.  Varric sidled up beside her, brushing his arm against hers.

“Min, I’m a Warden,” said Bethany, her eyes tightening.  “I know what I’m about.”  The tension in her expression faded, and she turned to Varric, fixing him with a piercing gaze.  “Anyway, we’ve got more exciting things to talk about than blasted Darkspawn.  Varric Tethras.  Seducing my sister.  So you finally told her how you felt, is that it?”

Varric groaned, clapping a hand over his face, feeling his ears blaze red.  “Are you kidding me, Sunshine?  Everyone knew?  This is some kind of nightmare.”

“That embarrassed about being smitten with me, are you?” Hawke asked, laying a long arm across his shoulders and bending down to kiss the top of his head.  “Why, a woman might feel slighted by that sort of admission.”

“Yes,” said Bethany, winking, “a real man would never hide his feelings for the love of his life.  Perhaps his devotion isn’t quite what he makes it out to be --”

“Of course I’ve loved Hawke for years!” Varric burst out, holding up his hands.  “I just didn’t want to overstep my bounds.  If you might recall, she had eyes for someone else at the time, and I didn’t want to be that ‘friend’ trying to get in the way --”

Bethany giggled.  “I’m only teasing, Varric.  I couldn’t be happier for the both of you.”  She hugged him.  “But I seem to recall the way you’d gaze at her even before we left on the expedition, and as far as I’ve been told, it wasn’t until after that Min set her eye on Anders --”

“Quite right you are, sister,” said Hawke in one of the most serious tones he’d ever heard from her.  “Quite right you are.”

“Oh sure,” said Varric.  “Everyone pile on the dwarf.”

“No, I think if anyone’s going to be on you, that’s all Min,” said Bethany, deadpan.  

Hawke laughed so hard she nearly cried, and Varric couldn’t help but laugh, too.  

***

Hawke pushed her plate aside and rested her elbows on the dinner table, leaning forward.  “Well, that was a meal and a half,” she said.  Quite literally, as Bethany had also brought home some things for dinner, and they’d wound up cooking enough food for a small army.  For a moment she thought of taking the leftovers over to the Chantry for food donation; there’d always been a few sisters that hung around in the evenings to receive meals to distribute in Lowtown. 

Then she remembered all over again, and a frisson went through her.  She swallowed.

“This’ll keep ‘til tomorrow, don’t you think?” she asked, staring down at the cookpot at the end of the table, still full of vast quantities of a beef ragout with tomatoes and prickleweed.  It wasn’t the meal she’d picked out at the market.  She’d carefully bundled the food she’d gotten and set it aside for later, not wanting to step on Bethany’s toes or dinner plans.

“It ought to.  I make it a lot,” said Bethany.  “At least now that autumn’s coming in and it’s not so hot anymore.  I made the mistake of making it once in the heat of summer and it spoiled dreadfully.  Eight Wardens were puking their guts out before we realized they’d gotten into it when we’d meant to throw it out….”

“I thought Wardens had iron constitutions,” cracked Varric.  

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Bethany asked.  Her smile quirked to one side, fading, and Hawke felt a sudden frantic urge to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“So Bethany.  I was wondering… have you got any advice on dreams?” she asked hastily.

“It rather depends on what you’re looking for.”

“Well, I can’t say as I know,” said Hawke.  “It usually seems as if the dream’s taken me by the arm and is insisting upon marching me ‘round the Fade.  It’s… I don’t care for it, sister.  How do you manage?”

Varric raised a gloved hand.  “Fade-touched dwarf with human-like dreams over here.  I might be interested in a little friendly advice myself.”

Bethany looked from one to the other of them.  “You don’t recall what Dad used to say?  ‘It’s about will.’”

Hawke shivered.  They were the words Bethany had shouted to her within the Fade, the words she had used to guide her home to the point that Varric and the others could pull her free.  Yet she had never remembered her father speaking them.  They must have been words for Bethany alone.

“I don’t think he said it to Carver and me,” she said slowly. “You had your special lessons with him, and Carver and I would go off and do chores.  I don’t recall him saying much at all about dreams, really.”

“Special.  Right,” said Bethany, the words stretching, quivering in the tense air.

“I only meant --”  Hawke let out a long huff of air.  “You know what I mean.  Carver and I used to get jealous of your time with Dad.  Kid stuff.  That’s all.”

Bethany chuckled, and the tension deflated.  “Oh, Carver.  I miss talking about him.  It’s been lonely, you know.  Only being around people who never knew him.”  She closed her eyes, still wearing a faint, wistful smile.  “There were so many times I could scarce believe we were related at all, let alone twins.”

“He was born contrary, truly,” said Hawke.  With a start she remembered Varric sitting patiently at the end of the table, waiting for them to catch up on their Hawke-only conversation.  “Perhaps all brothers are that way.”

“A verifiable fact, I’d say, as the born-contrary younger brother,” said Varric solemnly.  

“Oh Varric, I'm sorry.  Of course I wasn’t being terribly helpful to you.”  Bethany pursed her lips.  “Well, think of the Fade as a place where want, and need, and desire, are all very, very real.  Your wants, and the wants of those spirits or demons that are trapped there.  If you’re not a mage, the demons pick up on all those wants, and try to make a reflection of what’s in your mind.  It’s garbled and mixed up and strange, but it’s all you, in the end, with a twist.  It can’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Varric took a drink of his wine, looking troubled.  

“As for mages, like me…”  Bethany took a deep breath.  “-- and you, Min…   Well, the wants -- the will -- you start to realize where you cast it.  Where it takes you.  You’re awake in a way that you aren’t, without magic.  And that always stays on, sister.  You can’t unring a bell like this, not once it’s been rung.”  She reached out, gripping Hawke’s hand, and her grasp was far tougher than Hawke would have dreamed.  “I’m sorry.”

Hawke curled her hand around her sister’s, trying not to tremble.  “Nothing to be sorry about,” she said lightly.  “I can use this.  I can learn.”  But she held Bethany’s hand tight, gripping it until her knuckles went pale.

***

Things felt awkward in Hawke’s bed that night.  Somehow she was all elbows or knees or ankles, tossing and turning, unable to figure out a way to settle down.  Varric lay there patiently, waiting for her to find a comfortable spot, not minding when she couldn’t seem to figure one out.  At last she rolled onto her back and tilted her head to stare at him in the dark.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Varric Tethras.”

He reached up, tracing his fingers along her jawline.  “So that came out of nowhere.”

She spluttered, rolling away from him.  “Ugh.  I know.  I’m aware.”  She hiked some of the covers over her head, then pulled them down again.  “No, I know you’ve got to go back to the Inquisition at some point.  You’ve given your word, after all, and words are your thing, and it’s the noble thing to do.  It’s just… how am I to do this, Varric?  Bethany hates me.”

Varric blinked.  “Maybe it’s because I never had a sister, but I thought there was a distinct lack of death threats tonight… unless human sisters show hatred differently than dwarven siblings do.”

“You can’t just let me exaggerate in peace, can you?  All right, fine, Bethany doesn’t hate me.  But things are different between us, Varric.  Ever since the thaig, and the Wardens.  I don’t know that she’ll ever forgive me for it.  I think she’s tried.  I’m not sure it’s enough.”  She flung her arm up over her face, taking deep breaths.

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t,” said Varric.  “But she’s here with you now, right?”

“Right…”

“So there’s a chance,” he said.  “There’s time.  If things are messed up, you still might be able to fix them.  Why not give it a shot and see where it goes?”

I’m sorry, brother.  The thought came unbidden, a knife in the dark.  He closed his eyes.  

“You’re right, of course,” she said quietly.  She curled up against him, resting one hand over his heart, her fingers idly playing with the hair on his chest.  “Do you ever wonder about Bartrand?  If things might have been different?”

He held her close in the soft dark, brushed her hair with one slow hand.  “You could tell I was thinking about him, huh?”

“You’re more of an open book that you know, storyteller,” she murmured.

He swallowed.  “Sure I wonder.  There’s a lot of regret to go around, about that thaig.  Sunshine and Bartrand both paid prices.  I still don’t know if --”

If I murdered my brother.  Or if I saved him.

But that was a chapter he didn’t want to revisit, a tale he’d hoped he’d wrapped up years ago.  He stroked her hair, trying to focus on its softness, the warmth of her against him in the covers.  This was better.  This was the chapter he wanted to linger in.

“It’s all right, Varric.”  She kissed his cheek.  “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.  It helps.  More than you know.”

“Huh.  Imagine that.”

-

Chapter 4: The Message

[wildercrow]

song prompt: It's okay by cavetown for Cole.... hhhhh... (I think they took it down since but the lyrics still Hit The Spot so much)

Oh no help I am having some emotions about this song and Cole and post-Trespasser Sidhia...

Thank you for both the prompt and the good Cole song! <3

For @dadrunkwriting

~*~*~

Rating: Teen Characters: Sidhia Lavellan, Cole, Josephine Relationships: Sidhia & Cole (and brief Sidhia/Josephine) Genre: Hurt/Comfort Content Warnings: Implied suicidal ideation, Dissociation, Trespasser Spoilers AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34368964/chapters/89217103

~*~*~

Sidhia is too lost in thought – and pain – to notice Cole approaching, so when he speaks they nearly jump out of their skin.

“You’re allowed to be not-okay,�� he says placing his fingertips on his friend’s shoulder as they look out at the night sky from the balcony. “Better here and not-okay than not-here-at-all. We would be sad if you were not here at all. Me, Josephine, Blackwall, Varric…”

“You’re sad that I’m not okay, too, though,” they reply softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ll be okay again,” he says, voice filled with gentle certainty, “but if you go away, you won’t be here again ever.”

Sidhia hums in thought, gripping the green obsidian shard around their neck in a desperate effort to stay grounded, “It’s been a long time since I was okay.”

“That’s alright,” Cole says. “We don’t mind. You can be not-okay with us.”

“You deserve better,” they murmur, staring blearily out at the stars. They try to will their emotions back to life, but the best they can do is identify that they would be feeling sad and guilty if they could still feel emotions at all. Like a strange, empty echo of a feeling. When was the last time they felt an emotion instead of merely identifying its ghost?

“Maybe,” Cole replies wistfully. “You deserve better, too. It shouldn’t have to be this hard. But it is. I wish I could help more. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

Sidhia isn’t sure how to respond to that, so they simply let out a nearly inaudible sigh.

“You make us happy even when you don’t know how to feel happy,” their persistent friend continues. “You’ll know how again eventually. Smooth rocks between calloused fingertips. The smell of fresh mint from the garden. Tapioca pudding. The feeling of solving a puzzle. The way Josie snorts when she laughs. Blackwall’s bear hugs and Varric’s jokes. Our talks, even the hard ones. You haven’t forgotten how to feel happy. It’s just hard right now.”

Sidhia glances over their shoulder to see Cole smiling at them.

“Bark and branches blown off by hurricane winds, but you still have roots,” he says. “Come inside? Josephine is worried. She doesn’t always say it, but she’s sweaty-sick with worry every time she wakes up next to cold sheets. Is this the time they won’t come back? I worry, too. Maybe I can stay until you’re asleep? Krem won’t mind. He knows I’m safe.”

“Yeah,” they murmur, “I’d… like that.” Josephine is so accustomed to Cole crawling into bed with them at this point that Sidhia no longer feels the need to ask permission.

Cole beams and takes their hand, leading them back inside.

“Hey,” they whisper, nudging their sleeping wife as they crawl back into bed, “I’m here. I’m safe. Cole is here with me, at least until I get back to sleep.”

“Oh, darling!” Josephine rolls over to engulf them in a sleepy full-body hug, “I’m so glad you’re safe. I worry, you know.” She mouths a silent thank you to Cole, who crawls into bed on Sidhia’s opposite side and cuddles up against them, careful not to put too much pressure on the stump where their left arm used to be.

Affection swells in their chest for their best friend and wife. It’s a faint feeling – nowhere near the intensity they’re used to feeling – but they feel it. It’s there. It’s real.

They’re not okay. But they will be.

[capricious-and-melodramatic]

meme

Inquisitor’s Name: Khaaran’as Adaar

Alternate Name?: Adaar/Arn

Race, Class, & Specialization: Rouge/ Archer/ Assassin

Varric’s Nickname for them: Sneaky (before companion quest) / Softie (after)

Default Tarot Card: The Hermit

How they are recruited: In the Hinterlands, two Qun have been spotted with a Dalish group going through to what is believed to be Redcliffe. Message: Inquisitor, we have reports of a Dalish clan nearby traveling with, what we believe are two Qunari. Its most peculiar. If you are in the area, please take a look (If recruited: Bull can't explain it either.)

Where they are in Skyhold: On the roof of the stables. If Inquisitor comments, he will then move Undercroft after Dagna is recruited. Can also be found in the Second floor of the Quartermasters area (after companion mission)

Things they Generally Approve of: Kindness, helping, giving Nobles what they deserve. (Helping the Slaves in the Hissing Wastes will gain approval),  

Things they Generally Disapprove of: Cruelty, Greed, Orlesian Nobles

Mages, Templars, Other?: Mother was a saarebas, and escaped from the Qun. Is very pro-mage although he admits he shouldn’t have any say on what the fate of the mages would be. Will gain approval if Inquisitor sides with the Mages, chooses to use the Inquisition for Order/To do right. Will greatly disapprove of siding with the Qun and Letting the Chargers die in Bull’s mission whether in party or not.  

Friends in the Inquisition: Dorian, Sera, Varric, Bull (after Adamant/Winter Palace) and Blackwall. When Blackwall shows his true self, he believes people sometimes have to hide the bad to be good, and that people will be better if given the chance to make amends.  

Romanceable?: Yes, Any race and any gender. Will romance Dorian if he is unromanced. If Dorian is romanced with either Bull/Inquisitor: will also suggest at a possible romance with Scout Harding. Will opening admit to having ‘crushes’ on some of the advisors/inner circle. Dorian Romance trigger: Both need high approval (Extra points if Arn was at mission to Redcliffe and was in the Dark Future.) 3 Conversations will trigger romance dialogue in field, inquisitor can then ask either about the relationship. Dorian will comment that there is ‘defiantly something’ between the two. Commenting that Arn has been trying to court him for a little while now, however Dorian will insist he is not a nice man. When Arn is asked, he stammers and tries to deflect from the conversation, however he will admit he is trying to court Dorian and wants advice. The Inquisitor can suggest to do something a little less ‘formal’. (Inquisitor can shoot down the romance early and it isn't brought up again, if either of them are unromanced it still happens behind the scenes with party banter and teasing). When Dorian mentions he’s going back to Tevinter, the Inquisitor can ask if he’s told Arn about this. Dorian says he hasn’t. Although the Inquisitor cannot outright tell Arn about it. Dorian does tell him at some point. Revealing at the Celebration (end of main story) he has talked to Arn about it. They aren’t sure what will happen, but they want to try saying the relationship is both new for them and they both want to make it work. In Trespasser you can ask Dorian about Arn and he will say that the man crushed him and kissed him so much it was ‘like slobbered on by a Mabari’ When Varric reveals that Dorian is going back as a Magister, Dorian will say that he wants to keep Arn safe but doesn’t go into any details. Arn will comment saying he was much in the dark as the inquisitor, not wanting to talk about it much and worrying about the upcoming problems. Post Trespasser credits reveal that Arn has joined the Red Jenny’s and sneaks his way into Minrathous to see his ‘amatus’, it’s also stated Dorian does visit the south to meet Arn in better territory.   Scout Harding Romance trigger: If taken with you to meet Harding in new map locations. He has more and more to say with each time. If you stay still long enough near Harding. There will be a banter trigger at Crestwood and the Western Approach. After Western Approach banter. You will trigger new dialogue at next meeting with Harding (Arn shouldn’t be in party for this to trigger, this can happen before or after Arn’s confession). She tells you he’s been sending her letters with dried flowers and pictures. Arn’s dialogue will trigger with Varric in party. (Cassandra will have extra dialogue because she’s a romantic) Scout Harding Romance is hinted at the end credits if Inky never trigger any of it, but not confirmed. (Post Trespasser if still in Party)

Small side mission:  

Help the refugees of the Breach. Rescue scattered refugees in the Exalted Plains, the Hinterlands, Emerald Graves.  

Companion quest: (With high enough approval) Leliana has given Arn a letter (that the Inquisitor needs to deliver to Arn) and he needs to speak to you about, (If Bull is recruited, He will comment as you get the letter and before you see Arn that Arn has been very high-strung and with Bull’s best efforts he’s still very stress. If in a relationship with Dorian, Dorian will ask the inquisitor to check on Arn. Saying he’s not been his usual self. Dorian will say he doesn’t know what is bothered him if asked, but does know.) The letter tells him that Leliana has a lead on who betrayed his first squad. The lead in in the Western Approach, you meet up with one of his company, who’s being spying on the lead.   The lead is recognized and Arn comments that he is known as Rowan. Arn was sure Rowan had died when his old group had. You have the option to attack on site or leaving Arn behind, find out more about him. Arn has found a place to take out Rowan if he tries anything. If asked to early about his involvement, Rowan will flee, Arn will shoot him in the leg. However if you pick enough questions, he confesses and the Inquisitor can punch him in the face, Arn greatly approves. Arn demands answers from him when he’s awake. Rowan confesses it was for coin and clout. Working with the Carta earning more than with Arn’s small band. Rowan will comment he got something good out of it. Arn gets angry at the comment. To trigger the romance, the inquisitor has to talk Arn out of killing him. If Rowan is killed by the Inquisitor he will disapprove, saying he would have delt with it. If pushed to kill, Arn will regret it and see how the Inquisitor truly feels. If the Inquisitor suggests to take him back to Skyhold he can be judged (All three will lock out of romance) If the doesn’t interject and lets Arn talk, he will knock him out and leave him with no supplies save some water. Arn will suggest to send a letter to the Carta since Rowan spilled too much on Carta business. Romance is unlocked.   Arn will mention he was 16/17 when it happened and he was then promoted afterwards to rebuild the team. At 21 he has a new team (that he later introduces to you too in similar fashion to Bull and the Chargers. Only it is smaller) and joined the inquisition, meeting you. This gives you an option to flirt with him leading to a kiss that opens the romance. Later, A letter is received disowning Rowan involvement (if Inquisitor is Dwarf/Tal-Vashoth). If Elf, the Inquisitor will receive a letter from one of Arn’s mothers thanking them for their work. Human inquisitor will receive an anonymous letter with a tidy sum that says ‘Do not ask no questions, get told no lies.’ Leliana states that Rowan had more enemies and word of his backstabbing of the Carta has made him a valued target and its likely he was killed.  

After companion quest; More will options will appear to ask about his family and his mothers.

Option 1: Will open up for Romance.  

Option 2: Will be dissuaded from the Inquisition, will have no new conversations with Inquisitor. Clicked on enough, will leave at some point. Leliana was told he went back to his Mercenary Ways to help people. She has him watched but loses track at him at some point before Trespasser.  

Tarot card change

Option 1: Eight of Cups/The Lovers

Option 2: Gives The Moon Tarot Card.