#blightedcrown

[actumagis-blog]

for @blightedcrown because I shamelessly wanna see where this could go

She’d been promised the world on a platter, to choose her own life and what she wanted to do with it. She could become a crazy mabari woman if she wanted, or to move to Orlais and play the Grand Game, or even run off to Antiva to live in sin. Her father had always said she’d have the choice, and then ripped the rug right out from under her feet.

Marian knew he didn’t want to do this to her, but politically it was a good idea. A Theirin and a Cousland. Two of the oldest and most respected noble families of Ferelden finally coming together... it was something most people were celebrating. Meanwhile, she was worried. She could set aside the politics, it wasn’t hard, but she knew nothing of the man she was marrying. He could be the type to try and hurt her or completely ignore her for a mistress or a thousand other things.

She wouldn’t lie, he was nice to look at and his voice was good too. At least aesthetically she found him attractive, so at least she had a base to go off of. “I suppose, I do not think it will be that hard to do... but there is one thing I must know before we go through with this.” Marian paused for dramatic effect, as this was the most important question. “What is your opinion on mabaris?”

[valorcorrupt]

He hasn't seen her in years, but the sight of her sends his heart fluttering, his stomach doing backflips. "Inara," he breathes and her name almost catches in his throat, hands flexing and relaxing rapidly. Maker, was there a day he didn't think of? It seemed unlikely, thinking back. Despite the desire to take her in his arms, he refrains, moving towards her slowly and taking both of her hands, kissing knuckles and pressing them to his face, "Maker, I missed you." His voice strains, earnest.

It’s her mistake, really. 

She supposes she shouldn’t have opened the letter, shouldn’t have sent one back. She supposes the words she used were too familiar, supposes her response seemed a little too eager, supposes that though she’d practiced over and over again in the mirror, a little too much emotion had shown on her face when she saw him. 

She supposes she shouldn’t have come at all. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence as she stands there, staring, breath straining her chest as she tries not to let a single drop of the tidal wave of twisted, tangled emotions inside her wash over her face. Beside her, Nathaniel takes a knee for their King, and she’s grateful for the bowing of his head, the way he doesn’t add to the eyes on her face.

     “Show some composure,” she suggests, her voice as cold and hard as the silverite wings spread open across her chest, not so loud so the nobles gathered nearby might hear. “You are the King of Ferelden. I’m to bow to YOU.”

She pulls her hands from his and they feel colder than they have in YEARS. She forgot what that felt like. His warmth on her skin. 

Taking a knee before him then is half a collapse. She bows her head only slightly, just enough to keep her eyes from his, but not so far that the tears welling up behind them might spill out over her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, but it still feels like she’s drowning.

It’s her mistake, really. 

[dracoserrulata-blog]

It's simple. They are set by the fire of camp, eating in silence. The travel had been long and tiring, and the two of them were too exhausted to speak. Alistair had finished his dinner at least ten minutes ago, holding the empty makeshift bowl in his hands before looking over at her. Without another word he leans over and kisses her temple, lingering for a moment before he stood, "I'm going to bed. I will... see you when watch shifts." With a tired smile, he leaves his bowl and heads off to bed.

[ @blightedcrown ]

Nevarine could see the tiredness in his eyes as they ate. These days the weight that clung to their shoulders seemed to show through the cracks in their smiles more and more. She wondered if he could see it on her face as well. Did they look like the broken heroes they felt they were? Could the world tell how tired they were of fighting?

This feeling would pass. Eventually. For now, even the bags under her eyes felt like too much to carry. The rest of the camp felt it too, but it was Alistair who drew her attention. She didn’t want him to think she was worrying too much, despite the many stolen glances in his direction. Not an unusual thing for her, but this time there was no smile with them. Only the softening of her brow accompanied her gaze.

What could she do? Nothing. She wasn’t some cure for all the worries of the world. Even her usual pride couldn’t convince her of that lie. She wanted to be able to fix everything, but she knew she couldn’t. The only thing she could do was be there for him. Support him, like she needed him to support her.

Her eyes close as his lips press to her skin, her hand reaching to caress his own. She held it gently as he moved away, not letting go until her arm could reach no farther. She matched his tired smile with one of her own as well as an understanding nod. She wanted to go with him. Maybe she could shove the first shift off on Sten or Zevran? A scattered glance at the gathered party denied her that solution. Everyone else was just as tired as she was. She was their leader; she had the least right of all to be selfish. If there was anyone that should be sacrificing an immediate respite, it was her.

One by one her companions drifted off to their tents, leaving Nevarine alone in the glow of the campfire. She knew that once a few hours had passed and her watch was over, the first thing she would do is go to Alistair. Then came that creeping fear that she wouldn’t even have the chance. That somehow the world would just end before she got the chance to hold him again. Those bastard thoughts were always the hardest to fight off on nights like these, but she’d learned to not let them steal her hope. If all she could do was pray that she could be with him for just a while longer, then prayers would be the only sounds to come from her as she sat alone under the stars.

[atheirin]

😘😀😃

😘

😀 - I’m not afraid of reaching out to you.

😃 - To me, you are easy to approach.

hey now that first one isn’t on the list r U FLIRTING WITH ME, RAMA?

[fatesgoddess]

blightedcrown replied to your post: i added a modern verse to my verses! i’ve wanted...

yeah that’s nice and all but what about a DA verse :/

you come into my house on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding?? lmao boo u know i would make ANY verse for u and i already have an idea in mind for that WE OH MY GOD CHECK DISCORD JUST HAD AN IDEA

[fatesgoddess]

♕ && ✿

headcanon meme || always accepting ( @blightedcrown )

i'm more than happy to answer duplicate asks when it comes to headcanon memes! so even if someone has sent in something before, please feel free to send it anyway.

♕ childhood headcanon

she swears there used to be a small room hidden behind a secret door in the castle gardens; she used to hide herself away and read books when she didn't want to be bothered. however, as she grew older, zelda could never find that particular room ever again no matter how hard she looked. did it ever exist or was it something that she made up? it's not the only memory that she can't quite place, uncertain whether it actually happened or if it was a dream. it's happened before with strangers as well, a sense of familiarity towards people she's never met before.

✿ happiness headcanon

in a rare moment where all the champions were able to spend time together and relax, zelda took the time to make all of them flower crowns. though not everyone was as enthusiastic about them as she was (well, one ruto in particular seemed rather displeased), she managed to get them all together to take a quick picture with the sheikah slate. a hundred years later it is there, and in the quiet of the night when she thinks that no one is looking, she will pull out the slate and reminisce.

[valorcorrupt]

❤️ validate me

MUTUALS SEND ME A ❤️ & I’LL COMPLIMENT YOU.

oh my god Rama you absolute nerd

you are one of the few people I manage to hold regular conversations with on Discord. you message me first and you make me feel un-weird about messaging YOU first which is so, so nice bc I get nervous and weird about maintaining contact sometimes and you being so approachable and chatty and just generally down to be a nerd with me is something I really, really, really appreciate. You are kind and easy to talk to and trustworthy and I just. really appreciate having an ear and a shoulder to lean on and sb who salts with me and sugars with me which isn’t a phrase but I like us talking about our nerds and it makes me feel good. I also adore your writing, not only for Alistair but in all the ways, and the passion you put into your relationships be they ooc or ic or ships. 

[valorcorrupt]

smooch smooch smooch now u gotta kiss me three times

Kiss The Girl 

She liked to kiss him in the morning. To watch his face twist like he was frightened of the way that his lips would taste on hers so early, breath still hot with the stale taste of sleep, and then to watch him brighten, smile a smile that reached into his eyes, when he found that she found him just as sweet then as she did when his mouth was laced with the taste of fruit and berries in the afternoon. 

And she liked to kiss him in the afternoon, liked to lace her fingers through his as they walked and ignore the way that Morrigan groaned at the action, liked to pull him closer as they passed beneath the shuddering shade of trees the Blight had not yet touched in the forest and watch the shadows of the moving leaves shake on his cheeks as he leaned in to steal the briefest, clumsiest, too-much-teeth-iest attempt at a kiss in motion, and watch him blush with the little seeds that planted of thoughts of the surer kisses that would come at night. 

And oh, she loved to kiss him at night. To slip into some little hidden space between the line of sight of the world and the collision course of the Blight and make his heart skip a beat with her hands slipping beneath his shirt, fingernails teasing the skin of his sides as she pressed her chest to his and stole his breath in long, slow pulls that she’d have given anything make last just a little bit longer. She loved to pull away, to see the same desire shining in his eyes. And she loved to whisper soft that this was just the first of many, and watch him glow just like the dawn.