Knight-Captain Rylen Appreciation Week

Inaugural five day event: February 26th - March 2nd, 2018

[ellenembee]

Rylen Appreciation Week - Day 4

I didn’t have enough time to finish my romance-y piece, so here’s another excerpt from Truths Half Told Beget Lives Half Lived. This is a little snippet from chapter 14.

…She shook her head, her hand dropping from the wall as a wry smile cut through her serious expression. “I can see you won’t be convinced, but for the record, you’re being rather dramatic. You are not responsible for this war, and everyone here knows that you do everything in your power to keep your people safe. It is a tragedy when any life is lost, but I forbid you to deride or devalue yourself in my presence, Rylen.”

“As you wish, your highness,” he responded quietly to her authoritarian tone, the epithet feeling more like a caress than a taunt at this point.

She bestowed upon him a rueful smile and shook her head at the nickname. Her eyes did not falter, however, and the absolution offered up in those glittering depths tempted him more than anything ever had before. He hadn’t known how much he craved it, from her especially, until she offered it up so freely. The truth he read in her gaze and the sincerity of her words nearly sent him to his knees as warm and ardent affection bloomed in his chest. He didn’t register his own movement until he felt the curve of her hip under his hand and heard the slight inhalation pass between her parted lips.

The heady scent of fresh bread and cinnamon filled his nostrils, and he leaned closer, inhaling softly and letting his eyes close briefly at the deep longing pulsing under his skin. And yet, standing so close to her, he’d never felt more content in his life. He waited for her to back away from him, but she stood like a statue, her elevated breathing the only indication that his actions had affected her at all. He opened his eyes and looked down, nearly groaning aloud at the sight of her gaze locked on his mouth. Perhaps she wasn’t as oblivious to him as she seemed.

“Any other rules I should know about?” she asked in a slightly rough tone.

“Plenty,” he rasped. “But as you seem to be the exception to all of them, lass, I don’t see much point in continuing the conversation.”

“All of them?” she asked on a whisper.

“Every… last… one.”

At this, her eyes flicked up to his, wide and guileless, a hart frozen in the path of a lion. All the weakness, the self-doubt, the exhaustion faded away at the drumming in his chest, the humming of stifled electricity under his skin and the breathless quiet between them. Her closeness and his lyrium addled emotions conspired to stoke the fires of desperation in his fingers. Keeping his hand on her hip, he raised the other hand slowly, as if any sudden movement might send her skittering away.

The instant his loosely curved fingers came in contact with the supple skin of her neck, the caged lightning broke free and ripped through his gut. They simultaneously sucked in shuddering breaths, jolts of sensation arching through each point of contact, and her eyes fluttered closed as his shaking fingers grazed over heated skin in the lightest of touches. He gently cupped her jaw, and her thick lashes trembled against her cheeks in response, her skin burnished golden in the glowing torchlight and warm under his callused palm.

Spots of color bloomed high on her cheeks as he felt the twin electric shocks of one hand grasping his back and the other gripping his upper arm. He had the sudden urge to brush his lips across those high cheekbones just to see how deep a flush he could elicit from the prickly, perfect woman who had so quickly and expertly turned his world upside down.

And so, he did. He leaned down slowly, memorizing every detail of her skin until his eyes fell closed as he brushed his lips over one cheekbone. His lids, heavy with the desire to lose himself in her, cracked open just enough to take in the sweet flickers of emotion crossing her face as he slowly skimmed his lips over the bridge of her nose. She sucked in another breath, and another, her stuttering exhalations washing sensuously over his jaw while he descended upon the other cheek. His lips lingered there a moment while he inhaled the spice of her skin, reveled in the softness of her face under his wind-burned lips.

“Trice.”

He breathed her name against her skin like a prayer, aching to taste her lips and yet hesitant - as if the deeper part of him knew that it was a line he dared not cross. With torturous slowness, he slid the hand on her hip around her back and pulled her close while pressing feather light kisses to the corner of her eye, her eyelid, her eyebrow. He paused to kiss that place between her brows often scrunched in disapproval, especially at him, and then rested his lips against her forehead, fighting to control the breathless sensations urging him to go faster, taste more.

All the want inside him condensed to this one moment, this one thing. He wanted - absolution, compassion, provocation, intimacy, happiness - and he wanted them with her. Only her. He truly had broken all his rules, but in this one moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care…

[ellenembee]

That time Rylen got lucky.

Rylen Appreciation Week - Day 1

A super belated entry for Day 1 - Rylen and the templars. It turned into a beast, so I didn’t end up writing any of the other things I wanted. :( But I’m happy with how this turned out. :)

Lucky

Starkhaven Circle, 10 Drakonis, 9:29 Dragon

“Maker’s blood, Corbel, we’ll grow old and die before you manage a good shuffle. Give ‘em here.”

Rylen plucked the deck from the hands of the slightly drunk templar to his left. With a few flicks of his wrist, Rylen deftly shuffled and cut the cards before handing them back to Corbel to deal.

“Oh, well 'scuse me if I didn’t grow up tagging along with the infamous Ironside brothers and their infamous Wicked Grace 'tournaments.’”

Corbel’s slight slurring undermined his snide tone, but still, the comment hit home. As the youngest of the reigning Ironside family, Rylen had rarely done more than annoy his older brothers with questions or sit in the corner shuffling cards during those so-called tournaments.

As a family, the Ironsides had distinguished themselves hundreds of years ago for their integral contributions to the original architecture of Starkhaven. All the stone for every major building, including the Chantry, had been quarried, intricately carved, precisely measured, cut and placed by Rylen’s ancestors.

He’d left all that behind to do something useful, but the name followed him like a ragged cur, nipping at his heels and otherwise proving to be a royal pain in his arse. The other templars, especially those from the area, knew his surname, but he kept it quiet as much as possible.

Knight-Lieutenant Rylen. That was all anyone need ever call him again.

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[rylenappreciationweek-blog]

If you have a late submission...

You have until Saturday 9am PT / 12pm ET / 5pm GMT to submit anything you may still be working on for the event. Once everything is in, there will be several posts rounding up the event, including a masterpost for easy access to material posted during the week.

Event Tag: #RylenAppreciationWeek

[laraslandlockedblues]

For a Good Cause

In honor of this post by @gugle1980 and also Modern AU day for Rylen Appreciation Week, I give you a ridiculous little drabble that’s been floating around in my head.

Modern Firefighter ex-Templars doing some shirtless charity.

“Oh my – what’s going on here?”

“They’re doing a car wash for charity – and their truck too, while they wait for cars to come.”

“Is the charity that they’re shirtless? Maferath – just look at them -”

Three contented, swoony sighs escape their lips as they stare at the men before them.

“Maker’s breath – can you just keep holding up the signs instead of ogling us?” one of the men calls over to them, and they all giggle.

“S-sorry!” Elia calls over, and Abby nudges her in the ribs.

“Don’t apologize – they’re the ones that decided to do a shirtless car wash – ogle away, that’s the whole point,” Abby tells her. She turns back to the men hosing down the truck and cups her mouth with her hand. “Ow-ow! I think you missed a spot!”

“Eh lass, stop distracting us -” one of the other men calls, and Abby bursts into a fit of giggles.

All morning she and Elia have been holding signs, wearing tank tops and shorts and trying to entice people into the lot. They’ve been watching a slow trickle of people pull their dirty cars into the lot in front of the fire station. Everyone who’s stopped to get their car washed has stood over with the two women holding signs to stare at the sight the men pose.

They’ve only got the pants and boots from their uniforms on, exposing the rest of their glistening skin to the bright morning sun. Their muscles flex as they work, bulging and straining as one tries to hose down the large red truck and the other two kneel and work on cleaning the tires’ rims.

“I – I think I’m going to pass out,” Elia mutters beside her, and Abby follows her gaze to the one holding the hose.

He has golden curls, a dark golden beard, and the dusting of the same color is slicked down on his chest with the sweat and water dripping down him. He has scars and some burn marks, evidence of his time in the military and his work now as a firefighter – but the scars only add to the powerful physique he’s flaunting. Glancing over his shoulder he catches sight of Elia staring at him and almost flushes, but he smirks before he turns back around.

“At least if you pass out, there’s emergency responders right here to help,” Abby giggles. “Hey if she swoons will one of you come over and help, pretty please?”

“Shouldn’t you lasses be working?” the man cleaning the front tire scolds, turning to face her with a playful scowl on his face. The dark blue-black tattoos on his nose and chin are gleaming in the sun, the scars on his cheeks more pronounced by the drops of water on his skin. The tattoo on his chin tugs up slightly as he tries to fight the smile threatening to come across his face.

He has similar tattoos encircling his biceps, emphasizing their bulging size as he wipes the tires with a rag. His chestnut waves are shining reddish gold in the sun, and when he turns back to try to subtly look her over his aqua eyes catch the sun and sparkle. When he stands up her eyes follow the trail of dark hair from his chest down past his navel and she bites her lip, her eyes wide.

“I am working, I’m drawing attention to the fine men going shirtless for charity,” she teases him.

“We’re washing cars for charity, lass – so go get us some cars to wash -”

“You’ll make more money if you flex a bit, come on -”

“ – lass -”

“Maker’s breath -”

“She might be right,” the one working on the last tires points out to the other two. He stands up and wipes his hands on his pants, shrugging as the other two stare incredulously at him. His dark skin almost sparkles under the sun, his full lips spreading in a wide smile while his bright green eyes twinkle. “Why not put on a show? We might bring in more sovereigns.”

“Barris, I don’t think we should give in to these silly ideas -”

“Oh come now, mate – the signs aren’t bringing in enough, maybe we should try it.”

“Andraste preserve me.”

Abby and Elia dissolve into a fit of giggles, playfully slapping each other on the arms as they watch the men set aside their rags and the hose.

“Maybe you should hose one another down, you know that might help -” Dorian suggests from beside Abby, folding his arms across his chest and tapping his chin with a finger.

“No, absolutely not -” the golden man protests but before he can finish the sentence the man with face tattoos turns the hose on him and sprays him. He splutters and wipes it out of his eyes before he glares at the other man, and then he lunges and begins to chase him around the truck.

Barris walks over to stand beside Elia and takes her sign from her, holding it up and flexing with one arm at the cars passing by. Abby and Dorian burst out laughing, holding one another for support when a car slams on its brakes and pulls into the lot.

“Aye, see, Cullen – it worked -” the tattooed man points out from where Cullen has him in a headlock.

They quickly spring apart and clear their throats, and hurry over with Barris to set to work washing the car. The driver comes and stands beside Abby and Elia, openly gawking as the firefighters clean their car.

“I – I may ask for their numbers,” the driver mutters, and Abby glares at her.

“Sorry, honey – we called dibs,” she says firmly. The driver shrugs and passes over more than the suggested donation when her car is finally spotlessly clean.

“See? I told you it would work Comm – I mean, Cullen,” Barris tells him. “Come on, Rylen, grab a sign.”

In between cars the men stand holding the signs, posing until the lot is almost full of cars to wash. And the whole time they work Abby, Elia, Dorian, and the car owners stand and giggle as they watch.

By the end of the day –

“We made how much?” Cullen asks he watches Elia and Abby struggle to shut the lid on the metal box they were putting donations in all day.

“Almost a thousand sovereigns,” Elia tells him, smiling widely as she pushes her glasses up on her nose.

“See? A little flexing never hurt anyone,” Barris laughs as he pulls his shirt on. “Dorian – do you want to go for a drink?”

“Aye that’s a good idea – care to join me lass?” Rylen wiggles his eyebrows at Abby.

“I don’t know – I’m taken, I’ve got this man waiting for me at home,” she teases, but he steps forward and wraps his arm around her neck.

“Is that why you stood here and ogled me all day, then?” he quips, and then he leans down and presses a deep, possessive kiss to her lips. “Come on – let’s all go celebrate. We did good work today.”

“Yes, we – we did,” Cullen nods, and he pulls his shirt on over his head. “Elia, shall we?” 

He holds his arm out to her and she slides hers into his, holding it with both hands as she smiles up at him. “Let’s have a drink and – Maker, we can actually get the clinic going now, there’s so much to do -”

Elia continues to smile and Cullen leans down and kisses her before they all walk off together, laughing and joking about the day’s successful ‘shirtless car wash.’

“You guys should do a calendar, think about how much you could make selling them,” Abby suggests, and Rylen barks out a few laughs at the look on Cullen’s face.

“Maker’s breath – absolutely not!”

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Anyway You Want It

A story told in Modern Thedas, featuring roommates, road trips, a dog, a grumpy ex-templar along with two others, and the mage that they live with. Sprinkle in some fake dating with Cullen’s best friends Rylen and Barris as wingmen, coupled with enemies to friends to lovers, and we’re in for a show :) Now on A03 and ongoing!

[juniper-tree]

Oasis

Female Inquisitor x Knight-Captain Rylen NSFW

(for a visual, this oasis is modeled after the Travertine Hot Springs in Bridgeport, CA)

The high sandstone cliffs glow pink and orange, an earthen sunset.  A soft desert wind bounces and echoes off the rocks, ruffling the treetops, and the spring gently burbles against its shore.  A beautiful oasis, made for meditation, or romance.  

Or it would be, were it not for the split bones and half-chewed carcasses strewn at Léa’s feet, for the thick blood splattered in more places than she can count, the brown slime that stings her arms and neck.  

When she joined Knight-Captain Rylen to inspect the newly acquired oasis, they were both assured it was clear.  She had asked more than once.  But there was one varghest left, a young one left behind, not quite out of the nest.  One they could handle—if barely—together.  What she had thought to be a quick afternoon trip from camp, while her party scouted for resources elsewhere, turned into a skirmish, and left them both filthy.  

“If I may say,” Rylen begins, wrenching his shortsword loose from the varghest’s dark, knotted hide, “you’re quite impressive with that mace.”  

“This old thing?”  She lifts the mace and wipes one of its hard pink spikes, dripping with blood.  "I just take this on constitutionals.  You should see me with a real weapon.“  

His eyebrows raised, he nods admiringly.  

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[shannaraisles]

Rylen Appreciation Week - Day 5

[Read on AO3]

Captain Rylen, the pet detective, aka the AU day

Or … Rylen The Demon Slayer (based heavily on the opening scene from episode 100 of Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

Dark alleys, dank streets, no signs of life. No lights in the windows, no place of refuge. The Chantry too far away, the street lamps not lit in this part of town. Feet skidded on litter and dross, discarded by revelers after a celebration too early in the making; breath harsh in the throat, eyes wild for something, anything, to save her from the inevitable end that pursued.

She ran, headlong, heedless, panic spurring her every step, always aware of the death that followed with laughing ease. Death that would come only when she was no longer a source of entertainment for a being that had no place in the waking world. Fear spurred her on, clouded her mind, lead her to a blind alley wreathed in shadow. Only one door, barred from within, no answer when she hammered on it, crying for help.

Starkhaven was dark and silent. Night had come.

Nowhere to run.

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[juniper-tree]

Addenda slip

I was captivated by the idea of private detective Rylen, so here he is in a ripoff of  an homage to my favorite scene in noir cinema, the bookstore scene from The Big Sleep.  

In this Noir AU, the Templars are a mysterious underground association, a yakuza-style order who use dangerous methods to fight magic and are marked by certain distinctive tattoos.  All of them are tattooed, not just Rylen.  

Also let’s pretend you could drive a car in Kirkwall.

That whole summer the heat pressed down on Kirkwall like an iron someone forgot to lift, and ruined their clothes.  We were all singed: droughts emptied the harbor, Lowtown slums burned in random fires.  Then the wind shifted, and the air was sticky with a rain that just wouldn’t fall.  

In my bookshop, in a dark, dead corner of Hightown, the books sat heavy, and the pages were curling in on themselves.  So was I.  I hadn’t seen a customer in hours that day, hadn’t seen a man in… well, the weather wasn’t the only thing too dry these days.  

The door shook and rattled its rusty bell when it opened.  I thought I heard a thunderclap in the distance.  Then he walked in.  

His hat, and head, were set down against the late sun slanting through thin gray clouds.  When he looked up, I saw his icy blue eyes, the dark tattoos lining his nose and chin.  The tattoos told me he was a Templar—brutal, and dangerous.  The eyes told me he was another kind of danger.  One I might want to try.  

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[mssaboteur]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rylen/Female Hawke, Rylen/Female Mage Hawke, Rylen (Dragon Age)/Female Hawke Characters: Rylen (Dragon Age), Female Hawke, Hawke (Dragon Age), Female Mage Hawke, Mage Hawke, Cullen Rutherford, Cullen (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Trevelyan, Implied Cullen/Trevelyan, Varric Tethras Additional Tags: Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow burn that goes fast, Sarcasm, Comfort, Lyrium Withdrawal, Hawke is scared of spiders, Rylen is a little scared of Hawke, Smut Summary:

Hawke travels through the Western Approach, feeling as if everything for her is ending, but what she finds turns out to be a new beginning.

[shannaraisles]

Sparks

A minor companion piece to Kindled, just to tease those who were curious about the Ria/Rylen dynamic. I tried to write something more, and got stressed, so this is what I’m pleased with. Use your imaginations!

NSFW (to be safe) - Avvar!Rylen x OC (Ria)

Strong hands grasped about her waist, hoisting her up into the air to let her land with heavy discomfort on a broad shoulder, the body already turning to make off with her. Ria twisted with an indignant squawk brought her knee up, hard. Her thigh bounced off the entirety of the man’s face with the kind of force only a woman living the hard life of an agrarian society can deliver. He spluttered, staggered, and dropped her in a sprawled heap on the cold ground.

“What’s that for, you wee hellcat?”

Oh … it was him.

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[puddle--wonderful]

Rylen’s new to Instagram, because he’s always a few years behind trend. His underlings called him LaBeouf for the longest time–he’s got little patience for beating around the bush and yelled at them to “just do it!” more than once. When he saw the video, he embraced the comparison. He’s got a lady friend that he’s awfully quiet about. Work has him traveling often and if he talks too much about her, the ache of missing her glooms him down for days.

[sangosweetz]

Knight captain Rylen from dragon age inquisition. My first time drawing this character. ❤

[rylenappreciationweek-blog]

The Dragonborn has completed her final challenge and defeated Alduin, the World Eater, but on her way home from Sovngarde she seems to have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Thedas where a fledgling group, led by a man with a glowing hand, struggle to save their own world. Will the Inquisition accept her or destroy her? A tale of action, adventure, dragons, and love. OC (Dragonborn) / Rylen.

[siriusdraws]

[shannaraisles]

NSFW prompt! Ria/Avvar!Rylen, rough sex where they can be overheard ;)

~chuckles~ Let’s see what’s in the pot, shall we? Not quite sure what constitutes rough sex, but I’ll give it go! Definitely NSFW.

“They … they’ll hear us …”

Rylen grinned against his fiery little bride’s ear, tilting his head to bite at her throat as she groaned, arched into the consuming cup and grasp of his hands at her breasts.

“Let them,” he growled back to her, rolling his hips to press the urgent thrust of his confined cock into the generous cleft of her buttocks through her skirt.

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[rylenappreciationweek-blog]

Rylen Appreciation Week - Day 5

DAY 5 - Rylen, the pet detective, aka the AU day

Why limit yourself to only one version of Rylen? Why not find out what he would be like as a police officer, or a fire fighter, or a security officer? Why not see him act in a soap opera? Can we put him in a kilt and have him run the moors of Scotland? I’m sure he’d be stunning in noir-type story as a jaded detective who gets a visit from a gorgeous woman in a red dress. We desperately need all of it.

How to submit || Guidelines

Event Tag: #RylenAppreciationWeek

[kierarutherford]

Rylen day 3

I did the thing. I finished it! We have SMUT, semi decent, smut. Day 3 was Rylen x romance. I took it a slightly different route, we’ll see how that goes. Anyways, I am rambling. Enjoy:  1607 words.

Evening Out