Griffins and Chantry Miceby *asheraa
Title: Improbable Romance
Series: Of Dragons, Griffins and Chantry Mice
Teagan sat on the bench in the lavish garden rubbing his temples. The tinkle of the fountain helped to soothe his ravaged nerves. His mind drifted to the thought that he might just have to go drown himself in that fountain if the woman next to him did not shut up soon.
From the corner of his eye saw a flash of platinum blonde hair and looked up, his breath hitching in his throat. Amell? No, not Amell, Hawk he reminded himself. The resemblance really was uncanny. Same moontouched hair, same pale gray eyes, Maker help him they even had the same incredible pouty lips.
He gave her a tight smile as she approached him with her elven friend. Hawk smiled her incredible smile, so like her cousin's, and greeted him warmly. He stood and started to ask her weather she was here for the hunt or if some other task brought the Champion to this far flung locale, when Isolde started to mutter to him and pull on his sleeve. Dulcie? What? He couldn't concentrate on anything Hawk and her companion were saying. He turned to Isolde for a moment and when he turned back the two women had gone.
He sat back down on the bench with a resigned sigh. The woman next to him continued to prattle about something or other he just HAD to tell to someone or other.
His eyes wandered over the crowd as his mind drifted back to Redcliffe almost a decade earlier. Another silver haired mage. A harder time, a harsher place. A woman who in the midst of the Void on earth managed to bring a little spark of hope, a little smolder of passion to his beleaguered heart. If only he'd had the courage to ignore what was expected of him and persue...
The man in question cringed and asked himself for the hundredth time why in the name of the Maker's sweet fluffy pink bedsocks he agreed to bring this shrieking harpy of a woman with him. On second thoughts, sticking his head into the cage of that Wyvern over there...
"Yes Isolde, I till tell him. In due time."
He sighed again. Why was he always expected to be the responsible one, the one who fixed the problems, righted the wrongs, sacrificed his own desires for the greater good. Just once he wanted to do something purely for himself. Would that truly be so wrong?
His eyes drifted back over to the Champion, talking animatedly with the Elf woman, and... were they stealing coins from the guests? He barely stifled a laugh. Maker, she and her cousin really were alike!
He wondered what it might be like to have a proper conversation with Hawk, weather she would have the dry wit of Amell, or would she have a more bubbly feminine personality. He knew that either way she laughed readily. She had worn a permanent cocky grin on both occasions that he had the pleasure of speaking with her.
He would bet a generous sum that despite the fine clothing she wore, her hands would be strong and calloused. She walked with the grace of a seasoned warrior who was capable of using that staff she carried to defend herself as competently as she used her magic.
He wondered what her accent would sound like when she spoke Arcarnum while casting her spells. He wondered how many people here even guessed that an apostate walked among them. She exuded such captivating personality that one completely overlooked what she really was.
Watching her long hair stir and flutter in the breeze as she tossed the stolen coins into the fountain, he wondered what that it would feel like for those spun silver strands to slide through his fingers...
"What? Where? Huh?" He stammered shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
"When are you going to tell hiiiim? Oh and you simply MUST tell him about the skeletons Teaaagaaaan!!" Isolde started crying prettily yet noisily as only the very spoiled and the very rich can.
Teagan's eyes stopped in their tracks mid roll. Did Amell just wink at him? He stared at her blankly, as the ache in his head pounded even harder. Maker take it, now Isolde was sniffing at him. He reached into his pocket to find a handkerchief. As his hand closed around the fabric, he felt a small piece of folded parchment. Absently handing the square of fabric to the crying woman, he took out the paper and unfolded it.
"My dear sweet man, should you find that your poor nerves simply cannot tolerate present company any longer, I will be more than happy to rescue you. Yours in sympathy, H."
How in Andraste's name did Hawk get that into his pocket? He looked at the mage, who was now giggling with the elf and looking at him from under her lashes. Oh maker, she was biting her lip. Teagan suddenly felt a little dizzy.
Teagan blinked. The world stopped as Isoldes indignant shriek echoed across the courtyard. Slowly he turned to the woman beside him and his mouth split into a serene smile.
"Isolde, you inconsiderate, exasperating, annoying, nug humping, void spewing, shrill little... HARRIDAN!! For the love of the Golden City, will you please SHUT UP!"
Nodding curtly to his sister in law he stood, and with a spring in his step he walked up to Hawk, spun her around and swept her into a kiss that would have made even Senechal Bran's 'date' blush.
Teagan was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that both he and Hawk were making soft undignified little noises and he felt himself flush like a teenager. They must be making quite the spectacle of themselves.
When their lips finally parted Teagan couldn't help but grin like a fool. He leaned in to murmur against Hawks ear.
"My dear Champion, I am in your debt." His voice wavered slightly as he whispered "I would greatly enjoy the opportunity to get to know you better. My ship is at your disposal for your return trip should you desire company... or safe passage on your way home."
Hawk smiled up at him, cheeks a charming shade of red. She shook her head as if to object.
"I have a hunch" Teagan smiled, brushing a thumb along Hawk's cheek "If you and your companions are anything like your cousin and her friends, you could use a fast ship back to Kirkwall, yes? And besides, if there is any trouble we can throw my dear sister at them as a diversion!" He waggled his eyebrows making Hawk quash a moderately unladylike snort.
Throwing a devilish wink to Hawk, he turned and sauntered over to the cheese platter, happier than he had felt in over ten years.
Griffins and Chantry Miceby *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
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.
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..."
"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."
Word count: 690
(Late I know, but the evil interwebs were against me for a few days. Better late than never right? lol)
“Venhedis!” Fenris snarled again, trying in vain to extract his target from the roiling liquid.
He had done everything right as far as he could tell, yet what was floating around in the large cauldron was nothing like the desired end product. Admittedly he had never seen it at this stage in it's production before, but it even smelled wrong.
“How in the maker's name am I supposed to...get... this... out...” The elf hissed, batting at the surface of the liquid with a gauntleted finger.
Sighing in frustration he licked the slightly greasy looking liquid from the now hot metal claws. Grimacing he groaned and wiped the offending gauntlet clean on a nearby cloth, shredding it in the process.
He leaned on the bench by the fire and sighed, bowing his head. He could fell enemies with a single blow from his sword, but he couldn't read the instructions well enough to help Hawk when she needed him most.
He overheard the Abomination and Varric talking once when Merril was ill, and they said that this concoction would make someone who was sick feel better. Perhaps he should go to the clinic and ask for help... No. Or perhaps the blood mage. Maybe the pirate... How she would laugh if he went to her for help with this!
“Aww, Hawk, festis bei umo canavarum” He muttered, blowing a strand of silver hair from his eyes.
He carefully pulled a parchment towards the edge of the table, plunked down on the stool and started reading again.
“...when the chi..ken falls off the b..bones, re...remove the car...carcass from the s...soup and se...pa...rate the meat from the bones. Ch...chop the chi...ken up then re...ret... VENHEDIS!!” his gauntlets had begun to gouge tiny divots into the table top when he felt a small hand on his shoulder.
“Messere, if... if I may, is something ailing you?” Came a timid female voice from behind him.
“Orana, I apologise, I did not mean to make more work for you.” Fenris sighed looking at the scored tabletop.
“Oh no, Messere, it is only that I heard you reading and I thought, that is, I thought this might help.” The timid girl handed him a large metal strainer. “It is easier if you take it off the heat first though.”
Fenris looked at the strange piece of equipment for a moment then, looking embarrassed he took it and walked over to the still bubbling pot.
“Messere, if I may be so bold as to ask, what are you doing?
Fenris turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. Orana gasped and started stuttering.
“I, I mean no offense of course, you are welcome to make use of the house as you will, but it is only that, well Bodhan or I can cook for you, you don't have to trouble yourself... I mean, I am sorry Ser, of course you may cook whatever you like in the Mistress' kitchen...” She trailed off looking pitifully out of her depth in the face of a scorched and miffed looking warrior who also happened to be the most deadly man she knew.
“Nooo, no Orana. I know you and Bodhan are very good cooks, it is just that Hawk is unwell. I...” He let out a huge breath and sagged back onto the stool again motioning for Orana to sit next to him.
“I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about Hawk. She has given so much of herself, and yet she never asks for anything in return. I have treated her terribly in the past, but I care about her more than any other.”
Fenris' brow creased as he looked up at the former slave girl worry and frustration evident in his large green eyes. He finally gave in and took off his gauntlets and weapons, then turned back to the Orana with a look of determination on his face.
“My lady was injured Orana, and I wish to do something for her... to make her feel better. Will... will you help me?”
Orana smiled and nodded. “Of course Messere.”
Collection: Of Dragons, Gryphons and Chantry Mice
Word Count: 417
“Come on Varric, we don't have all day!”
Hawk shuffled her feet impatiently and scowled at the dwarf, a look of barely contained impatience on her face.
“Almost got it, I know I can get this, it's not even an advanced lock! Really, even Merril could unlock it!” Varric muttered an uncharacteristic bead of sweat sliding down his forehead.
“Oh sweet thing, that's what you said three picks ago.” Isabela drawled, smirking “Perhaps you could let me try and coax those tumblers into sweet submission.”
“Easy as p...” The sound of another of the dwarf's treasured lockpicks snapping cut him off.
“Andraste's ASS! This is so frustrating!” Varric took a deep breath counting to ten “No Rivaini, I'll get it. If I give up now what will Bianca think?” Varric batted the pirates nimble fingers out of the way and sighed pulling out another pick from his rapidly dwindling supply.
“VARRIC! You hear those clumping noises below us? That's the sound of impending doom running up the stairs to kill us, come on! Let Izzy have a go!” Hawk squeaked in a frantic whisper.
“No Hawk, It's a matter of pride, I WILL conquer this fiendishly brilliant device!” He rolled over on his back looking disturbingly like the description of Sir Pounce a lot Anders was telling the gang about over a game of Wicked Grace the previous evening, and started batting at the padlock.
“Um, Varric, didn't you say even I could open it?” Asked Merril, sounding peevish yet confused as only Merril can. Varric grunted and continued to bat at the lock.
The clumping of heavy plate boots was beginning to sound disturbingly loud to Hawk.
Hawk was about to physically drag Varric away by his gloriously abundant chest hair when Merril whispered something to Isabela. The pirate smirked and sauntered over to the dwarf, planting herself squarely on his lap.
Varric turned bright red and sputtered. Hawk choked on the volley of expletives she was spewing.
Merril stomped over and kicked the trunk. It sprang open with a loud click.
“Varric, you were right!” Whispered Hawk, a bemused look on her face.
“Good girl Kitten, remind me I owe you a kiss and a drink when we get back to the Hanged Man!” Exclaimed Isabela grinning proudly at the now very smug elven mage.
As they tore out of the warehouse, the gang of Templars hot on their heels, the excited squeals of Hawk could be heard. “More Torn Trousers!!!”
A/N So, here be the second in the D, G&CM series taken from the prompts in dragon_age Tuesday Promptfest. More from this week's prompts forthcoming, but I need to have dinner and feed my kitty before she decides to kill me in my sleep :-D Also, please excuse the formatting, something fubared when I cut and pasted and I can't seem to fix it without retyping it all. Too tired to care atm. I'll fix it laters.