feckless_muse: (blow it up)
Story under cut. Rated M for language. Winter fun in the Deep Roads ensues. )
 
Outside it was probably snowing. The ponds along the wounded coast would be freezing over. It had to be getting close to feast day but there was no expedition to find Harlot's Blush to hang in the door ways for them. No listening to the pop of corn grains roasting over the fire. 
 
Nope, thanks to Bartrand, they were stuck in the blighted sweltering Deep Roads. Fighting possessed rock monster... thingies. 
 
"I'll show you why Mages are feared!" Came yet another cry from Anders. Marian was really starting to wish he would stop saying that. Every flaming time those words left his mouth the Void ridden nug humping rock... thinga... would pause, shudder and call a bunch of teeny bitey rock thingas! It was infuriating!
 
Marian was getting tetchy about the whole maker forsaken afair!
 
Usually, Marian filled the role of main healer. She was a Spirit Healer, a very good one if she did say so herself. She quite enjoyed it, and it gave Anders a chance to stretch his magical muscles in other schools while he was away from the clinic. 
 
Today however, she was annoyed. Feeling a little cranky. She was missing her damned snowman contest with Merril. She was missing baking with her mother! Void take it, she was missing cashing in on the expedition and getting royally shite-faced in the snow with her friends!
 
Enough was enough... really! A girl has needs!
 
She had just enough time to register the horrified look on Aveline and Varric's face as she stormed up to point blank range of the giant rock thinga and closed her eyes. 
 
She muttered under her breath and in the space of three heartbeats, her breath began to mist. Ice crystals began to form on her eyelashes and fingertips. 
 
"NO, you screaming FUCK!! I'LL show you why Mages are feared!" she shrieked, stamping her foot. 
 
As she dropped her hands from their position high above her head, Anders let out a maniacal whoop and shouted for the rest of the party to dive for cover.
 
Anders popped out a haste spell on the party and managed to throw up a shield around himself just in the nick of time. 
 
Marians staff connected with the stinking hot rock un-wintery under her feet with a resounding crack, and the temperature plummeted. The blizzard swirled around, building to a deafening roar. Snow and ice piled up past Marion and Anders knees, and the demon infested rock thingas in question froze solid. 
 
Varric (from behind the safety of a large stalagmite) and Anders (cackling like a loon completely out in the open) picked the small ones off in short order. Marion, still apparently feeling a little snarky about missing her mother's famous roast followed by treacle cakes and cream, walked over to the giant rock thing and roared. She smashed it with the but of her staff, shattering it into a million little harmless un-possessed pebbles.
 
"Hmph!"
 
Slowly the non mages of the group crept out from behind cover, looking around at the pristine white underground landscape. 
 
Aviline found her wits first, scowling at Marion. 
 
"Void take it Hawk, what were you thinking?" The guardswoman growled, wading through a snowdrift to stand next to the oh-so-smug-looking mage.
 
"I want my damned Snow Spirits." Hawk muttered, kicking the bigger hunks of rock out of the way. She immediately plunked down on her back in the snow and started waving her arms and legs around, with a determined scowl on her flushed face.
 
"I don't know what they are Hawk, but I have to say you do get results. Messing with you is suicide."  The Dwarf chuckled, shaking his head.
 
Aveline looked between Anders, who was conjuring yet more snow between his hands, and Marion who was now gathering a giant ball from the snow on the ground. 
 
"You mean to tell me that you risked getting yourself killed, because you want to roll around in the snow?" Aveline squeaked.
 
"Yup!" Marion grinned. 
 
Aviline closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. 
 
And got simultaneously pelted with two giant snowballs.
 
Aviline sputtered and coughed, trying her hardest to scowl. She almost succeeded when another giant snowball pelted smack in the middle of Anders' back, having flown from Varric's general direction. A small chuckle escaped, as she bent to gather a handful of snow. 
 
Marion, seeing that Varric had so far escaped unscathed from the battle, began casting. The Dwarf in question loosed another gigantic snowball, and was suddenly caught in the middle of a two foot wide circle of falling snow.
 
The snow fight raged for quite some time, until finally the drifts all melted to water, and trickled away. 
 
Laughing and soaked, the party sorted through the loot.
 
It was a temporary reprieve. A small piece of winter happiness. It lasted only a few hours, but the group knew that with the lives they led one had to take one's pleasures when they were offered. 
 
Who knew whether or not they had missed the Feast Day festivities while stuck underground, or what would await them when they reached Kirkwall again. 
 
What they did know was that they were alive, and they had each other. And that... well, hopefully that would never change.
 
feckless_muse: (zev)
 

Griffins and Chantry Mice

by *asheraa

Title: Sing
Collection: Of Dragons Griffins and Chantry Mice
Characters: Leliana, Alistair, Fem!Warden
Warnings/rating: T for Character death
Word Count: 249

Sweat beaded on her brow and the lump in her throat threatened to choke the life from her. She took a deep breath to try again. Her voice NEVER failed her... 

The note rang pure for a second then cut off with a sob. Heat rose to her face, but her skin remained pale, almost ghostly white in the flickering light of the pyre. 

"Maker, I am so sorry" she whispered, trying to steady her racing heart and her gasping breath. 

Taking a deep breath for a third time, she found herself feeling dizzy. The air was filled with smoke, with incense, with fear, with sorrow, with death. Death. She tried not to think about that underlying sweet sickening smell. 

Another sob escaped and she weaved on her feet. It was too much. She could not do this.

Suddenly a strong arm caught around her waist and held her steady, a splint covered chest held her up, halting her fall. 

The bard looked up at the man who had given up the throne for the woman in front of them, turning to ashes. His once bright face, crumpled in despair, his strong shoulders hunched, his cheeks wet. 

She had to do it. 

She took another breath, and he whispered in her ear. "Leli, we'll sing it together."

Starting softly their voices gradually rose above the roaring fire, one rough and deep, one clear yet broken, singing for the love they had both lost this void cursed day. 

"hahren na melana sahlin..."

What a View

Nov. 2nd, 2011 10:21 pm
feckless_muse: Anders DA awakenings (anders1)

Griffins and Chantry Mice

by *asheraa

Title: What A View
For Tuesday Promptfest on LJ
Could be considered nsfw-ish I guess... 

It was mid afternoon on a particularly hot Kirkwall day when Hawk rounded the bend of a trail off the wounded coast. Humming to herself, she ducked down a well hidden game trail and entered a small grove near the edge of a cliff. Below was a small pond of ice cold, crystal clear water, little more than a rock pool. What interested Hawk though, was the miniature waterfall above it. Water from a spring filtered through the sandy soil and emerged just below the lip of the cliff that jutted out over the pool. It was the coolest, cleanest water you could find in a dozen square miles. Just the thing for a band of thirsty do gooders out on yet another quest to save the known world from certain destruction, or in this case a lack of herbs.

While hawk waited for the rest of her party to catch up, she took off her boots and sat on the ledge. She lay back on the rocky ground and dangled her feet over the side, letting the water from the spring trickle over her calves and the heels of her bare feet. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of her face and the cool water on her feet until she started to doze off.

It took her a few minutes to realize that she was being lulled to sleep by an achingly beautiful male voice that was softly singing the Chant somewhere in the small cove below her. She quietly lifted her legs up from the edge of the cliff and swung around until she was laying with her head and chest dangling over the edge, craning her neck to see who that hypnotic voice belonged to.

Carefully she shuffled over until she had a good view of the pond below, past the scraggly brush
that was growing out of the side of the cliff face. It wasn't a long drop to the ground below, only about 40ft, but if she fell and missed the pond, she would land on jagged rocks that had fallen from the ledge
that she was currently dangling over.

Bracing a shoulder on the trunk of a particularly stocky shrub, she leaned out a little further, and nearly lost her balance from shock when she finally saw the body that went with that voice. She stuck a leg out behind her for balance and lay there speechless.

The beautiful deep melody halted momentarily as the singer ducked under the water and swam a few
leisurely laps of the small pond, long muscular arms making short work of the task. Hawk's mouth dropped open as she watched the play of sunlight and water over lean muscle.

A soft thud next to her alerted Hawk to the arrival of one of her companions, and someone grabbed her hip pulling her balance back to the safe side of the ledge.

"Makers blue balls Hawk, what are you doooo..." Isabela griped followed by a reverent whisper, "Andraste's frozen nipple clamps, that is a goooorgeous view!" The pirate sighed and slid down onto the ground next to Hawk so she too could get a better look at the living work of art that was splashing around below.

Said work of art was now standing up in the pool, once again singing quietly. Short cropped strawberry blond hair sprayed a rainbow of water droplets as it shook back and forth. Fine chiseled cheeks and full lips graced a lightly bronzed face that was tipped back to bask in the afternoon sun. A sliver of pink slipped between those lips to catch a droplet of water.

"Aaaabout those holy nipple clamps... Is that...?" whispered Isabela quietly in an uncharacteristic display of forethought.

"Oh yes, it's him... and yes they are pierced..." muttered Hawk with an audible gulp. "Who'd have thought it."

"Issy, where are you? Did you find Hawk? What are you two doing?"

"Shhhhh!" Both women whispered in unison, not looking up. Isabela waved Merril over absentmindedly with the hand that wasn't holding Hawk back from falling off the edge.

"Ooh is this a game?" Whispered Merril sliding in next to the other women on the ledge. "what are you doing, did I miss something... ooooh isn't he preeetty..."

In the pond below, large strong hands were sliding down the back of the blond head, forcing water to run in rivulets down a long corded neck, across broad well muscled shoulders, and down a lightly tanned back that was so well defined with muscle that it could have been sculpted by some Orlesian
master artisan.

A fourth body shuffled up beside the three women. A crossbow nosed out over the edge of the cliff.

"What's going on ladies? Are we about to launch a daring attack on another band of Qunari? A pack of slavers perhaps?"

Varric looked at Hawk over Merril's shoulder and poked her arm when she didn't reply. Hawk's response was to gently reach across and turn Varric's head to face the scene below.

"And I thought the sight of three shapely asses sticking up in the air was quite the view!" chuckled the dwarf under his breath. "Makers cross dressing uncle, is that...?"

"uh huh" Was the soft chorus of replies.

Eventually the man below dried off and donned his armor once more, Sword strapped to back, skirts and armor neatly and firmly in place. A wistful look crossed his handsome face before he turned and strode off towards the trail back to Kirkwall.

After he was safely out of earshot, Varric and Isabella leaped to their feet, chattering excitedly.

"So Rivaini, Friend Fiction?"

"Of Course! Title?"

"Oh it has to be something catchy, something that really grabs the eye!"

"Sunkissed in Kirkwall?" The pirate shook her head.

"Worked Up on the Wounded Coast?" Varric laughed shaking his head as well.

"Gold in the Gallows? Oh how about The Pierced Priest?" added Merril.

"You better watch out Rivaini, Daisy here is starting to give you a run for your money!" laughed Varric

"I was thinking Tasty Templars!" Chimed in Hawk, chuckling uncontrollably.

Laughing they headed back to the Hanged man, quest to find herbs forgotten. They would give Sol what they had and pick up the rest later on. Sometimes there were simply more important things to do.

Besides, thought Hawk, she would need a good stiff drink before she would be able to venture into the gallows without seeing those little golden rings and water drenched muscles in the back of her mind. Or maybe a LOT of drinks...


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

As always, Bioware owns all, I just play with it in strange and disturbing ways.
 
feckless_muse: (Default)
 27.10.2011

Prompt/title: Unexpected 2 (Of Dragons, Griffins and Chantry Mice)

Rating: T (some rough language)

Word count:633

Characters: Carver, M!Hawk, Anders, Isabela, Sebastion, mentions of others.

A/N Wow this is late, but meh, at least the block finally broke lol. I have a couple more coming, but this is all I have atm.

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

Anders' back slumped in resignation as he heard Hawk's words. He had known that this might happen. Hawk and that Chantry Prince were thick as thieves, and Sebastion was never going to understand the plight of Mages. The Chant was too ingrained into his psyche and the man was far too much of a "momma's boy" to think for himself. If he called for blood to avenge the Grand Cleric, Hawk would supply it.  

Hawk accepted Sebastian's dagger and walked up behind Anders. 

The mage took a deep breath and held it, waiting for the blade to pierce him. Typical that his closest friend, who was a mage himself, would opt for a rogues weapon to do the deed. Or perhaps he would give the bratty archer the honors after all, and an arrow would do the piercing instead. Didn't THAT thought make his head swim.

Or maybe it was lack of oxygen. He expelled the breath in a rush, wondering what was taking so long. He heard Isabella make a tutting sound, and finally turned around to face the angry group behind him. He steeled himself and turned to see...

A gigantic sword drawing just the slightest trickle of blood as it rested gently at Hawk's throat.

Huh?

Anders vision swam a little as his mind tried to catch up to his eyes. He vaguely registered the sound of Hawk's staff hitting the ground as he slid his gaze over to Sebastion. The nug loving tosser had a blade pressed to his groin even as a rather bountiful bosom wrapped in white cloth was being pressed to his face. The frigid git looked as if his head may explode.

Wait, what?

Anders let out a slightly hysterical giggle.

He looked to the other person in the group who would likely want to see him dead, to discover Alistair with his boot planted squarely in the elf's tattooed back, and his shield lodged at the base of his neck.

Anders giggled again.

Deciding he was going slightly mad, the mage stood and turned to face the group of people who were currently pointing too many weapons at each other. Just behind the group he spotted... was that Amell?!?. The Warden Commander was happily chatting with Knight Captain Cullen, and gesturing wildly with a huge shit eating grin on her face. Wait, was Cullen... Blushing? And... Smirking?? Was he even capable of smirking?

Anders' poor brain, unable to take any more weirdness, forced his eyes back to the immediate issue at hand, namely the man who was about to kill him.

"Anders, are you alright brother?" Carver asked in a serious voice.

"Carver what the bloody hell!" Hawk sputtered, looking fit to kill the younger man.

"Don't. You. Dare. This man saved my LIFE!!" Bellowed Carver. "What would Father think? Andraste's perky tits, you are A MAGE!. Would you stab Bethany in the back as well if she has survived the blight?"

"But, I..."

"No! You don't get to be surprised, OR pissed off, you amazing shitheel. You get to show some integrity for once and fight for the damned cause that you and father rammed down my throat for the past 27 years." Carver slowly lowered the massive sword from Hawke's throat and sniffed.

"But I..." Hawk was looking nervously at Sebastion for guidance only to realise that his friend was currently suffocating in cleavage, as Isabela laughed and prodded his thigh with her extremely sharp dagger. He looked back to Carver and gulped.

"No buts, you will apologise to my fellow Grey Warden here for threatening his life, and then you will go and discuss strategy with the Knight Captain and the Hero over there. Oh and when this is over, we are going to have a long chat about loyalty."

To the horrified fascination of all present, Hawk swallowed convulsively, nodded and wandered away to do as he was told.

As the tension dissipated, Varric sauntered over to Anders and clapped him on the back.

"You still with us Blondie?"

"Um... Yeah... That was just... unexpected."

"No shit, even I couldn't have planned that..."

 
feckless_muse: (again)

08.10.2011

Prompt/title: Tea and Biscuits

Rating: T

Word count: 668

The Knight Captain hated Tea and Biscuits. Especially the Orlesian kind of biscuits with the frosting and jam. So cloying and sweet. They made his teeth hurt just thinking about them. Stupid name for it as well. Tea and Biscuits. Afternoon Tea. He didn't even drink tea. Maker take it, he was a Ferelden after all, not Orlesian. He was a practical man.

Day after day he choked them down listening to the Knight Commander worry and moan about how the mages were all turning to blood magic. How the Templars were being too soft. How they must remain vigilant.

The Knight Captain hated Tea and Biscuits. At least if he got to her office early enough in the afternoon he could salvage the beverage and have coffee instead. He would make it himself, unsweetened to counter the cloying confections that went with it.

Day after day at 3 bells precisely he would have to sit there nodding and taking useless notes as the Knight Commander plotted and planned. Plotted to keep 'the solution' quiet. Planned to promote Alrik because of his exemplary service. Demanded that Cullen remain silent about her plots and plans.

All the while the Knight Captain remembered the beauty that could come from magic, the innocence as well as the evil. He remembered who he wanted to be all those years ago. Remembered another Amell here in Kirkwall who was fighting for safety and freedom from the other side of the chantry.

The Knight Captain hated Tea and Biscuits. He hated how even the blighted food stank of lyruim in the Commanders office of late. He hated how he had taken to eating even more of the Maker damned sweets to make it easier to vomit up the extra lyrium the Commander would insist he take before leaving her office.

Day after day he would grip the edge of his seat and bite his tongue until it bled for fear of being accused of insubordination if he disagreed with her decrees. He would silently recite the good deeds of the five apostates who had done so much good for those around him. Amell, Hawk, Anders, Bethany, Merril. He would hold the names close like a jealously guarded possession. They were his life line, his link to sanity in this prison of lyrium addled insanity. Those names he could hold because contemplating the sheer numbers of the dead and tranquil at his hands would have driven him mad in an instant.

The Knight Captain hated Tea and Biscuits. Fortunately today, he realised, he would never have to endure them again. He watched impassively as the chantry blazed and sent hot ash like pinpricks against his cheeks.

For the first time he stood up to Meredith. For the first time he saw a group of mages running amok and did nothing to stop them.

As he watched the last molten light go out in Meredith's eyes he allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. He may be damned for what he had allowed to day, but how many would be saved by it?

After Hawk and her band of revolutionaries had left and all hell broke loose in the city, the Knight Captain was nowhere to be found.

Cullen, the friend of the Hero of Ferelden, the mage lover, the insubordinate wretch, and the man who would never again feel guilty for being who he truly was, was whistling tunelessly while walking through the woods outside the burning city of chains.

As he walked into the camp of bloodied, weary and frightened people he had come to think of as friends he smiled. When the warriors drew their swords he smiled again and took the lid off the crate of supplies he was carrying. He was smiling a lot more lately.

"Hawk, my sword is yours." was all he said as he handed out the food and drinks.

The Knight Captain, he thought, may have hated Tea and Biscuits, but Cullen loved Ale and Crackers. 


*Edit: Huh, just fixed a couple of nasty typos lol. Now says "Commander where it's meant to and "Captain" where it's meant to. Bit of a difference that O.o

What.

Oct. 19th, 2011 08:06 pm
feckless_muse: (blow it up)

19.10.2011

Prompt/title: What.

Rating: M

Word count: 581

Lyriana Hawk muttered under her breath, watching the mage struggle through several failed attempts at mixing his "potion". She sat perched on one of the rafters of the clinic alternating between chuckling at Anders expletives when he burned his fingers for the tenth time, and wanting to slap him upside his pretty blonde head.

He really had no idea...

She deserved to know what her best friend was doing, and she damned well had a right, no responsibility, to be involved in his revolution.

She was the champion of Kirkwall, yet who had she really been champion to?

Feynriel? The countless mages who had been murdered because the Templars were trying to meet a quota? The lives destroyed by lyrium smuglers? The dozens that had been made tranquil before the "Tranquil Solution" had been quashed? The tens of thousands like Anders who had been beaten, abused, tortured and broken? The countless children who had been stolen from their families because a religious leader enforced their interpretation of the wife of a god? Father who was murdered... mother who was dismembered and defiled because the institution was too busy chasing power to do it's damned job? Bethany who's only crime was being born a healer?

Or how about the Templars who had suffered, had she championed them? Thrask? Wilmod? Keiran? Maker even Cullen, who was sentenced to live in this sewer of a city because he dared to feel compassion?

Face after face flashed across the back of her eyelids, taunting her. The lives that were destroyed because of senseless fear, the lives she had taken playing Merrideth's games... So much blood on her hands, and for what?

Even the rulers were slaves in this city. Bound as tightly by piety and fear as the giant bronze slaves at the gates were bound by their chains.

No more. It was time to BE a champion, and if that meant being hated and hunted, so be it.

Anders let out a squeak as he felt the magic he was trying to infuse into the powder backlash on his fingers for the dozenth. His hand was midway to his mouth when he heard a soft chuckle and a gentle thud behind him.

The mage grabbed his staff and did a quick patrol of the clinic. When he turned back to his work bench he let out another not at all manly squeak.

"Hawk! Where, um, what, err... that is, it's not what it looks like."

Hawk finished her final measurement on the now finished black powder batch, and gently funnelled it into a container she had prepared while sitting in the rafters.

"What." She raised an eyebrow as she watched Anders' mouth open and close like a fresh caught fish. "I'm a rogue, did you really think I didn't know what refined "Drakestone" and "Selapetrae" are used for?"

Anders continued to stammer as Hawke started mixing the next batch of powder.

"Oh I took the liberty of adding a couple of extra ingredients to my version. I'm guessing a modified lightning spell to set the spark? Trust me this will have a bit extra kick."

"Um Hawk... I... um..."

"And Anders..."

"Um, what?"

"You are a brother to me, but if you EVER fucking lie to me like that again, I'll kill you myself. Now, close your mouth and give me a hand. We don't have much time." 
feckless_muse: (demony)
So evil a contraption as this should not exist, but I'm glad it does    *scampers off to write some generator inspired fanfic weirdness*
feckless_muse: (zev)
“Of all the stupid, idiotic crazy...” Noctoi swore colourfully enough that even Oghren would have been proud as the ominous boom of the massive lock rumbled home.

For the first time in many, many years even Alastair looked fit to strangle the elf as Zevran stepped out of the shadows a few feet away. He was about to expel his own set of expletives when the resounding crack of a hand striking flesh broke the ex templar's train of thought. Zevran stumbled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned up at noctoi, who was shaking her hand and looking gloriously angry.

“Ah my dear wardens, do not be angry. Did I not promise you that you would not be alone when the time finally came?” He turned to Noctoi with a glint in his eye “And besides, I cannot allow you to have all the fun down here. You have to admit it would have been dreadfully unfair of you both to be gallivanting around in this hot, steamy, private little nook without your dreadfully handsome elf to provide the real entertainment”

“Erm... Zev... you DO realize we're standing on the wrong side of a locked door leading into THE SODDING DEEP ROADS??” Alastair's voice got louder and higher as he spoke. “You shouldn't be here! We have to get you out, we're not coming back!”

“Alastair's right” Noctoi sighed, rubbing her hand through her close cropped black hair in frustration. “There used to be a tunnel a few miles up that was blocked by a cave in, we might be able to clear enough debris for you to get out.”

“NO!”

The Wardens jumped at the vehemence in the elf's voice. He rarely raised his voice and Noctoi had never heard him shout like that before, at least not outside their bedroom anyway and that shouting was for very different reasons. Zevran grasped Alastair's shoulder, and gently stroked Noctoi's cheek, looking from one to the other. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even.

“Please my dear grey wardens do not ask me to leave.”

“Oh Zev” Noctoi whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. She gently pushed him back until she could look into his eyes. Alastair rested his forehead on the back of Zevran's head and slid an arm around each of them, his best and closest friends.

“You knew that this day would come Zev” whispered Alastair, a single tear running down his cheek to land on the golden strands of hair “We are Gray Wardens, we die young”.

“Ah, Noctoi, mor de mi vida, Alastair, brother of my heart. Have I not said many times before... For you I would storm the gates of the dark city itself. Where ever you lead I will gladly follow.” Crushing the wardens to him in a fierce embrace he let out a small sob. “Please, do not send me away, I belong at your side, I am yours!”

The three stood there for what seemed like hours and yet no where near long enough, the assassin, his lover the mage, and the ex templar turned brother that they never had. They held each other until the iron set of Noctoi's shoulders finally relaxed, telling the men that she had finally acquiesced. Zevran would join them.

They chatted for a while, wandering deeper underground until the wardens gasped and shuddered under the screech of taint invading their minds. The rumble of a troll leading up the first wave of darkspawn was felt further up the tunnel the three stopped and looked at each other one last time.

“Well my friends,” said Zevran with a ferral grin and an evil glint in his eye “Those bastards may kill us while we are young, but at lease WE get to die pretty!”

Laughing like slightly feral children in a candy store, they charged into the oncoming horde.

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

A/N  Just a short peice (I'm not up on the fic lingo... is this technically a drabble??) for the Live Journal Tuesday prompt fest.  Appologies for the roughness of this peice. It was written on my phone while on my tea break so it's finished in 15 mins, really roughly edited and completely un-beta'd. I hope it's not too patchy. 


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