HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I was paired up with @quizzikemen for the DA Secret Santa! Ayyy surprise! Thank you so much @santa-age for organizing this event. c:
Here’s a little something I wrote for quizzikemen featuring her OCs Atheleen and Daeron! I had so much fun learning about your characters. I hope you like it! <3
The crisp air of the Frostback Mountains filled Atheleen’s lungs as she yawned. It seemed sleep was firmly set on eluding her. No matter how determined Atheleen was to finally get a good night’s rest—and in her own bed, no less—all she could do was toss and turn.
Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the discomfort of life on the road again? Over the last three weeks, they had trekked halfway across the Hinterlands, battling the rain, the freezing temperatures, and the scattered pockets of Red Templars plaguing the countryside. The mud and the wet clothes had been a persistent reality for the Inquisition forces. Atheleen was relieved to be back at Skyhold. Glad for a break and grateful to be sleeping comfortably in her own bed… if only sleep would come.
She grumbled, closing her eyes briefly before she made her decision. With a heavy sigh, Atheleen untangled herself from the covers. She stretched her stiff arms above her head. “Might as well find some company,” she said, looking about her empty room. “No point in lying in the dark alone.”
Stifling another yawn, Atheleen dressed herself quickly, feeling the cold nipping at her bare skin. As she pulled on her leather coat, she took a deep breath, inhaling another lungful of chilly air. She felt the familiar sensation of magic bubbling forth and, in seconds, warmth spread throughout her body. Atheleen had learned the technique many years ago. It was incredibly useful in soothing the numbing cold and keeping herself warm, but she would have preferred not to rely on her magic at all. Nodding to herself, Atheleen made a mental note to ask for a heavier blanket for the coming winter.
The moon was now high in the sky, barely managing to crest over the thick layer of dark, ominous clouds. From her experience traveling with Clan Lavellan, Atheleen could tell that snowfall was imminent. With a few quick, practiced movements, Atheleen used her fingers to comb through her long hair, teasing the tangled white strands loose. Rather than taking the time to braid her hair, she decided on a loose ponytail instead. She was eager to reach the Herald’s Rest before the snow began to fall.
The raucous noise from the tavern reached her ears even before she reached the heavy double doors to the Inquisitor’s throne room. It was sometime after midnight now, but the celebrations were apparently still in full swing. As she descended the stone steps, a sudden cheer went up among the folk in the tavern. It was swiftly followed by roaring laughter and colorful swearing. It was probably Sera—Atheleen blinked.
Feeling something brush her nose, Atheleen tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Her prediction was right. Snow was beginning to fall. She picked up her pace and quickly covered the rest of the distance to the tavern. Taking a deep breath, Atheleen pulled the door open.
Immediately, she was greeted by a blast of warm air and a roaring cheer. Every head in the tavern was turned her way. There were a few unfamiliar faces, but the atmosphere was friendly—largely in part to the alcohol. Atheleen was sure that they were just excited to have more people join the festivities. As she made her way into the tavern, she heard a few people calling out to her. “Welcome back!”
“Ready for another round?”
“Go get her a drink! Don’t be an ass.”
“Hey, I was going to!” Atheleen recognized this voice. There was no mistaking it. Before she could say anything, a firm hand clapped her on the shoulder. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
Atheleen shrugged the hand off as she turned around. Standing before her was a tall Dalish elf with wavy, rusty-red hair. The vallaslin of June adorning his tanned face shifted as he smiled at her. “You left too early! The celebration’s far from over.”
“Daeron.” Atheleen returned the smile; she eyed the half-empty glass of red wine in his left hand with amusement. “Still drinking?”
“Of course.” Daeron flashed her a grin. His face looked slightly flushed from the warmth of the tavern… and perhaps from the horrifying amounts of wine he had ingested since she last saw him. Surprisingly enough, he was still standing. “And I feel like getting another drink now that you’re back. But before I do…”
His pale green eyes scanned the tavern briefly. Without missing a beat, Daeron twisted around to snatch a goblet full of ale from the tray of a passing server. “Thank you—” He pressed the goblet into Atheleen’s hands in the same smooth motion. “An ale for you.”
Murmuring her thanks, Atheleen brought the ale to her lips, breathing in the sweet fruity aroma before taking a sip. She blinked in surprise. The ale was delicious—much better than she remembered it being. She took another gulp. “Cabot was holding back on us.” Atheleen licked her lips before smirking. “If he had been serving this earlier, I might have stayed longer.”
Daeron laughed. “Well, you’re back. And just in time actually.” Nudging her forward, Daeron steers Atheleen over towards a table in the corner of the room. “Next round’s about to start.”
“Next round?”
“Wicked Grace,” Daeron replied. Seeing the look on Atheleen’s face, he quickly added, “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
Suspicious, she narrowed her eyes. Daeron grinned sheepishly under her scrutiny. Atheleen quickly put the pieces together and rolled her yes. “Sure. But you know I’m not going to play for you, right?” Atheleen arched her brow. “Whatever I win? I’m keeping.”
After a few seconds, Daeron shrugged. “That’s fine.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show on his face. “As long as you win, I’m counting it as a win for myself.”
A few members of Bull’s Chargers were gathered around the table as Atheleen and Daeron made their way over to them. Colorful playing cards, peanut shells, and gold coins were strewn over the table. Atheleen’s eyes caught the large pile of coin at the end of the table. “Daeron, haven’t lost enough coin yet?” The Iron Bull chuckled. He was organizing his newly acquired gold into small stacks of ten.
“Oh, you’re mistaken.” Daeron winked at the qunari. He made a show of pulling a chair out for Atheleen. “I think my luck tonight is about to turn. My sister’s not the type to lose.”
The Iron Bull laughed, his laid-back demeanor did not change at all. His good eye focused on Atheleen as she sat down at the other end of the table. The cogs in his head began to turn as he contemplated his strategies. “We’ll see about that,” he said, grinning.
Returning the grin, Atheleen untied the hefty coin pouch at her side and dropped it on the table with a satisfying thunk. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”
