#etaeternum

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They have really grown on me and it saddens me to hear they've broken up?! Hopefully just temporarily! You have to tell me all about it what happened! Thank you so much for the support @etaeternum​!! I hope you like it!

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[eleonorpiteira]

Caoilainn Cousland, from Dragon Age: Origins (x)

Commissioned by the absolutely lovely @etaeternum! :D

This card is based on etaeternum’s fic Fate of the Order, which is part of the series Mother of Griffons! :)

[etaeternum]

Sunrise

Mother of Griffons Sunrise

The (first) time Nate was punched in the face.

Find it on AO3! or read from the beginning on Tumblr!

Caught stealing and conscripted by a passing Grey Warden recruiter in the Denerim market, Hale had listened to the hushed whispers and rumors of the other new recruits about this thing called ‘the Joining’ on their way to Vigil's Keep. Both the King and Queen of Ferelden were Grey Wardens and if a pair of pompous nobles who had servants to do so much as wipe their asses could live through it, it couldn't be that bad. So she thought.

Before they drank the darkspawn blood, the recruits came to find they might not make it through the ritual. Well, she thought as she drank from the chalice, following some ridiculous creed, just fucking try to kill me.

The sickness, nausea, all preceding the most intense blackout she had ever experienced followed. She thought she was dead. But what she saw. The flashes of darkspawn.  Their hearts beat together, now in unison with hers, to some unseen thing much darker and more evil than she could ever imagine. It frightened her, although she would never admit that to anyone. She played it off as if it was nothing.

After the Joining, other recruits complained about hunger. But Hale adjusted. It wasn't that much different from starving on the streets of the Alienage. She rolled her eyes in response to those who bitched, moaning about the pains of an appetite that could not be satiated. The whiney little Wardens that survived the horrors of the Joining, the feel of the taint spreading throughout their bloodstreams, and the ravenous hunger that occurred after fueled her dislike of all of them.

She distracted herself from the same changes by taking her rage out on them. Within the first night of her completed Joining, a conflict spurred between her and another recruit, now both Junior Wardens. The young man, a noble from Amaranthine-who likely assumed Hale Dalish from her vallaslin and ears- complained about the inadequate rations, saying it was as if they were being treated like Elves in the Alienage.

With no other provocation, she lunged over the table and punched the Junior Warden square in the jaw, repeatedly. When a Senior Warden came to stop the fight, she swung at him too, earning her a night in solitary confinement.

The rest of the Junior Wardens kept their distance from the volatile young woman from then on and the Warden Commander gave her duties to clean the kitchens until they departed for Skyhold. When she was selected to join the Senior Wardens for this small scouting mission, the other Junior Wardens created the rumor it was Warden Commander Cousland's plan to desert Hale in Orlais.

With reluctance, she joined the scouting group to the office of the Inquisition, interested in surprising her cousin whom she had learned took the role of Inquisitor. This will be fun, Hale told herself knowing that Alanna would be stunned by the sight of her since it had been at least a year since Hale’s last departure from the Lavellan clan. The last time she disappeared was just after receiving her vallaslin.

Alanna, as the First to the Keeper, made a special arrangement for Hale to prove her devotion to the Dalish and receive the facial tattoo. Hale assumed Alanna hoped that the spiritual ritual that included a day of silent meditation on the Elven gods and a symbolic purification of the body would ground Hale, ultimately encouraging her to stay with the Dalish clan. The only reason this ritual stopped once begun was is if the Elf could not tolerate the pain of the tattoo. Hale went along with the ritual, curious to see what changes in herself she might experience.

The pain from the tattoo was minimal. She had received a number of tattoos on other locations on her body in Denerim. This pain was nothing. And when asked about the god-design she chose, Falon'din, the god of death- she said little. To aid the souls of what she hunted to the afterlife- it was something she knew the more spiritual members of the clan would believe and appreciate. In actuality, she chose it hoping to connect with her deceased father, though she would tell no one her reasons. Though Hale was highly skeptical of the Elven gods and religion in general, she was also opportunistic. If this could help, she would try.

Infamous in the Lavellan clan, Hale had long upheld her status as a vagrant, disappearing and revisiting the clan when it suited her even since she was a kid, notorious for being crass and stubborn. Each time she left, she extinguished her cousin's hopes for Hale to find loyalty to their clan.

Reuniting with Alanna in the Skyhold War Room was indeed entertaining, especially Nathaniel's brevity with the Inquisitor. His confidence with her ultimately confirmed Hale’s attraction to the Lieutenant.

After the Grey Wardens raucous night around the campfire near the Emprise, they continued on for two days. Traveling through Emprise du Lion as quickly as possible, they planned to hurry through the frigid climate to reach the temperate weather of the Emerald Graves.

"I have been looking for this everywhere," Damia said after she hitched her horse to a tree at their resting spot for the night on the outer edges of Emerald Graves. She pulled her coin purse from the bottom of her saddlebag as she took out her food for the night.

Nathaniel's eyes shot to Hale as she dismounted from her horse. She raised an eyebrow and one corner of her mouth turned in the slightest smirk.  Hale had considered a few other attempts at pickpocketing her comrades, but each time she saw the opportunity, she checked to see Nathaniel's location. The Lieutenant, fetching as he was, seemed to always be at some other location of their camp with his arms crossed, watching with sharp eyes. Eventually, she gave up the idea that looting her fellow Wardens could still be an option.

After the group set up their camp, the Wardens gathered round to settle in for the night. The members took their food packs from their saddles bags and sat down.

"Great," Lisbeth, a human from Denerim that Hale perceived to be a woman of few words, spoke loud enough for the group to hear. She was the woman Damia pulled up to dance with her when Hale drummed a few nights prior. "More dried meat."

"Lieutenant," Damia called from where she sat. Her tone sounded slightly worried, and a bit annoyed. "I don't think the Inquisition packed these rations with Wardens in mind. I'm running low."

Hale's ears perked and her eager eyes darted back to Nathaniel. Diligent about eating light in spite of hunger, her food supply was still plentiful. But like a puppy excited for a chance to play, Hale heard only an opportunity to hunt. And as if he sensed the swift turn of her head in his peripheral, Nathaniel nodded to Hale as he replied to Damia. "Based on Val and Isenam's report on the area, perhaps the young huntress can catch us a ram… or even some nugs."

"That'd be splendid, hun." Damia's honey-colored eyes smiled as she looked to Hale, who winked back. Using the pet name had become a running joke between them.

"Tomorrow morning," Nathaniel added, his expression dry and humorless. "When it's safe."

Mouth gaping open in disbelief, Hale prepared to argue with Nathaniel but Damia shook her head to discourage. In an exasperated reply, Hale rolled her eyes and huffed, mumbling something like 'fine.'

Damia, the 28-year-old from Redcliffe took a liking to the 19-year-old Elven woman, and the pair had bonded since that night at the campfire, in several ways. Fortunately, neither had been given night watch duties so far and they took advantage of that. Hale had stealthily snuck into Damia's tent on over one occasion, the first night being when she returned to the campfire after her incident with Nathaniel. If anyone knew of their liaisons it was the Lieutenant as he always took the first and longest watch when the Wardens split up for the night. But he remained tightlipped about this information if he knew.

And tonight, after some time eating and washing up at a nearby stream, and the Wardens went to their tents, Hale followed the routine they had developed and crept into Damia's tent.

Senses always activated and hyper-vigilant, even in the act of pleasing Damia, Hale was certain she heard footsteps that were undoubtedly Nathaniel's stop outside Damia's tent. Her head between Damia's legs, devotedly, with more experience than one would expect for someone her age, Hale's tongue rolled quickly against Damia's nub. Damia wriggled and writhed with pleasure from Hale's techniques, panting quietly, attempting to muffle all noise. But the sounds from their activities were not all mutable, and though Hale heard the footsteps, she did not stop. Instead, her long middle finger entered Damia and applied skillful pressure. With unfortunately perfect timing, Damia climaxed and inadvertently called Hale's name in the process.

Awkward and uncomfortable coughing from outside the tent echoed Damia's soft cry. Though she was certain this could be another mark on her long list of insubordinations, Hale was not sure she minded the Lieutenant overhearing them. When Damia was finished, Hale grinned widely as she kissed her way back up to Damia's face. Hale whispered through a grin into Damia’s ear, "We've been caught."

"You mean you've been caught," Damia whispered back, smiling. Her long auburn hair draped messily around her flushed face.

"It's yer sodding tent!" Hale rasped with amused annoyance.

The pair waited in silence for a few minutes until they heard the footsteps walk away. "You're fine, Hale. I think the Lieutenant fancies you," Damia assured, attempting to relax any anxieties Hale might have for getting in trouble.

Hale gave a short, breathy laugh. "Well, that's good for you then, innit?" She minimized the excitement that stirred from the confirmation of Hale’s own hopeful suspicion that the Lieutenant might be fond of her.

Stretched along each other, the pair joked, teased, and spoke about their pasts. Hale remained reserved in her disclosure. While they spoke, Damia enjoyed tracing the lines of Hale's vallaslin. They also discussed their friendship. And both agreed that the fun they were having was indeed only that; that they were simply friends and nothing more.

After some time, Hale departed from Damia’s tent to head back to her own. She tried to listen for the Lieutenant, timing her exit to avoid being caught with as much accuracy as she could, considering the circumstances. As the tent flap opened and she gingerly skulked the shadows of the encampment back to her bed, she heard another cough. A stern, purposeful clearing of the throat triggered Hale to peer to her side for the source. Though she was certain she knew what she would see when her eyes landed. On Nathaniel.

She froze in her tracks. His gaze, or maybe glare, looked both entertained and serious. One eyebrow raised, questioned her next move and challenging her to dare take another step. After a few long moments of this staring contest, when Nathaniel made no other comment, she made one stride without breaking eye contact. Her grin spread as he remained silent. She continued walking with obnoxious insolence, her feet silent with each step.

As she neared her tent, her back turned to the Lieutenant. She heard his voice from behind. "Thin ice, Hale." She froze again, waiting to see if there might be a reprimand for her actions. "You're safe to hunt before daybreak."

Slow blinks in gratitude, her body eased with relief for not being in trouble. But then she noticed as he stood some distance behind her, certain he was still watching, her heart was fluttering wildly; a knot was twisting in her stomach. The Lieutenant had to like her. Not that she cared. But again, she was getting away without a reprimand and she got to hunt in the morning. The gift of a hunt being far more prized than he realized.

Standing still for just a moment, waiting for any other words from Nathaniel, she heard him move.  And as if that were permission for her to leave, she entered her own tent and went to bed without even changing out of her light armor.

The next morning well before dawn, she awoke to the sound of voices and tuned into the conversation as best she could. Eager to get out and hunt, she listened to make sure there was no reason for her to delay.

"… I feel it," she heard snippets of the low, gruffness of Nathaniel's voice in reply to whoever he spoke, "… not darkspawn."

The voice that responded was one mage, Phillipa, a human woman from Highever who had the last watch before dawn. "… then?"

A long pause followed. Hale was not sure if the Lieutenant was whispering lower than she could hear or if he was thinking about his answer. "… Another Warden," he said after some time.

Nate's answer confirmed the lack of any impediments to her hunt. So Hale equipped her bow and quiver full of arrows and snuck out unseen. Fueled largely by the desire to avoid any awkward morning small-talk that might come with their attention, she preferred silence when she was preparing to hunt. It allowed her mind to stay out of her head and tune into nature around her. Being forced to talk would disrupt that entirely.

Long, light strides took her from the camp in darkness through thin clouds of low-lying fog. She headed into the denser forest. It was much more alive here than where they camped the previous nights. Vibrant greens of the plants and trees surrounded and the trees were more suitable for climbing. Ferns padded the ground, absorbing the impact of her steps effectively; she moved in silence. Senses aligned with the environment, Hale was aware of her distance from the camp. She chose her location based on the plant types and old tracks indicating the likelihood of animals crossing this path. Limber and strong, she climbed a nearby tree with grace. Higher and higher, she rose until she was satisfied with her field of view.

Then she waited. And waited. Her bow and an arrow stretched across her lap to be quickly lifted, nocked and aimed. Talented at knowing the exact placement of her armor and equipment to eliminate the chance of making noise, Hale took quiet stretches from her spot in the tree.

Finally, she spotted some nugs scurrying the forest floor beneath her. It was still dark out, but the pending sunrise was close. The light of stars was no longer visible through the canopy, birds were singing, and the fog had cleared.  Quick barely audible whispers of motion allowed her to lift her bow, nock the arrow and aim. Maintaining paced deliberate breaths, she followed the movement of the small, oblivious creature down the sight of the arrow. And on an exhale, she released. The instant whoosh of the projectile flew through the air and met its target.

By a fraction of a second, a soft thud preceded the screeching of the nug she shot and the others darted away from the killed creature. Without another thought, she reached behind to set an arrow, aimed and shot at another nug before it left her field of view. Another short, loud wail followed.

Hale grinned to herself, pleased with the ease of her successful hunt. The other nugs had already scurried away and were not worth the effort to follow from her current position. But as she readied herself to climb down the tree, she sensed movement of something larger. Human. She paused and peered through the branches, still well above the immediate periphery of the person below.

It was Nathaniel. He seemed to look for something. He looking for me? She wondered to herself, partially annoyed and partially flattered at his attention.

The rest of the woods were still, the nugs had all scurried and any surrounding wildlife had darted away after her successful shots. The sound of a pin dropping could have been heard, even on the fern covered ground.

Unaware of the dead nugs, Nate wandered on. With enrapt attention, she followed him with her eyes and noiselessly moved from limb to limb of the trees in the process. Her focus was instantly disrupted as she heard more signs of activity. Another human who she realized as he neared was not nearly as careful with his movements as Nathaniel.

"Warden?" Nathaniel called cautiously as the human neared.

"Brother!" The Warden replied, but his accent was different. He sounded Orlesian.

The Orlesian donned the traditional Grey Warden armor, just like what she wore. Hale's heart pounded in her throat. Something was wrong. She could sense Nathaniel's suspicion as the other Warden saluted him and then went to grab Nathaniel's hand. Before Nathaniel could pull away, the Orlesian Warden grabbed Nate and pulled him in for a hug.

Nathaniel tried to push, then instantly, the Lieutenant grasped his head with both hands and yelled loudly. It was as if there was something crawling under his skull he could not get out.

Hale's mouth dropped open, but she caught herself before she gasped. What occurred next was a confusing jumble of movements. Nathaniel's eyes looked to the Orlesian with accusation.

"What did you do to me?!" He yelled as he attempted to reach for a dagger at his belt. But his balance was off, and his body swayed as if he were drunk.

"That was the Calling, Brother of the Grey," the Orlesian answered calmly, interrupting Nate's movements by grabbing his fist so that Nate could not move to grab the dagger. "Clarel is gone, but those of us who are left must join Corypheus to end all Blights."

"No!" Nathaniel yelled, attempting to hit the Orlesian Grey Warden with his balled fist. But the Warden sidestepped and locked Nate's arms behind his back. His bind on the Lieutenant was brief. In what seemed to be a conscious moment, Nathaniel kicked backward and hit the Warden's shin, causing him to instinctively reach toward the wound. But in a quick turn, Nathaniel dove and met the Orlesian Warden's head with his own. The resounding thud of the impact was audible, even to Hale. But before Nate could take full advantage of his lead, he doubled over in pain, again grabbing at his head as if the impact had reminded him of the 'Calling' that the Orlesian had informed. What the fuck is the Calling?

The Orlesian Warden recovered fast though covering the place where his head was now bleeding. He took steps toward Nathaniel and reached, his mouth open, about to speak.

The swoosh of an arrow from above pierced through the side of the Orlesian’s armor into his chest. Stunned, the Warden stood motionless for a minute, his mouth gaping. He looked down to the puncture, touched the blood that seeped from it and studied the red on his hand.

Confusion. The sight of blood from a wound that appeared from nowhere caused him to sway.  

Hale took the opportunity of the Orlesian Warden's lack of movement to call to Nathaniel. "Lieutenant? You okay?" She asked with concern. Nathaniel did not answer, as if he could not hear her from the pain in his head. A minute later, she called again, this time daring to use his first name. "Nathaniel?... Nate?" Saying it made her stomach flip, as though she was breaking some divine rule by calling him anything other than Lieutenant. He still did not answer.

As the Orlesian Warden rocked where he stood, he glanced up to Hale in the trees. His mouth opened and closed as if to speak but no words came. Then, he coughed and gargled. Blood bubbled from his mouth, dripping down his chin. And suddenly, it was over; the Orlesian fell to his knees, then forward to the ground.

Swift, Hale lowered a few branches and dropped down. Her feet landing in the softest thud on the forest floor a safe distance from Nathaniel. She walked to him carefully. Though her concern for the Lieutenant was strong, she feared what she would find.

Dawn came to the woods but the dense forest and brush in the early morning did not illuminate the clearing, adding to Nate's confusion. He stumbled, reaching out for support from a tree and grabbed at his head with the other. Red, slick, wet trails on his head reminded him of the fight.

Hale stepped closer and his eyes darted to her. "What… what happened?" He asked, with bewilderment as if he did not understand the violent events of the last few minutes.

"You were… you were attacked by that Orlesian," she said as she gestured to the dead man. Her voice was cautious, unsure of how he might respond.

"Why-?" He asked, then he groaned. He looked to the dead Warden lying near them. "Damn it! What did I do?"

"You fought dirty, Lieutenant," she replied smugly and snorted. "I was impressed. But that didn't stop him so I loosed an arrow into the whoreson."

"Fuck," he replied shortly, with no other words. His consciousness seemed to return, but his eyes squinted as his thumb and middle finger rested at his temples.

"He was attacking you," she replied assuredly, insisting that her course of action was the only option. "Looked like he was gonna kill you or take you back to that Corypheus wanker."

"Damn it," he said to no one in particular, as if he had not heard a word she said. She suspected he was holding information that would make this entire incident far less confusing.

"What do we do now?" Hale asked as innocently as she could manage. Her next course of action would have been to hide the body, take the nugs and pretend nothing ever happened.

"Leave the body. It’s done. We have to get back to camp," Nathaniel replied. Hale's eyebrows rose with surprise at the simplicity of his plan.  "We will discuss how to proceed."

"Yes, sir," Hale said respectfully, curious about what 'proceeding' meant.

She insisted on collecting her arrows and the nugs before they returned to the camp. The sun was now rising, the prominent colors from the sunrise just visible through the canopy of trees. A few of the Ferelden Grey Wardens had awoken and packed their belongings. As long as Nathaniel's tent was still up, they knew not to rush.

"Come to my tent," Nathaniel ordered Hale without looking at her.

She followed without a word, though her heart fluttered again and the knot in her stomach was noticeable. It's not to plough you, arsehole. He just wants to figure out how to 'proceed.' She scolded herself for her body’s reaction to his order as she followed Nathaniel into his tent.

It smelled strongly of him. Earthy. Clean but sweet, like mountain air and freshly cut hay. She scanned the tent. He was neat. His bedroll was made, his clothing and other belongings tidily stored in his bag. It differed greatly from her tent. Her bedroll was in whatever state she last used it, the layers of blankets usually disarrayed; her clothing strewn about until she threw it in her bag or put it on.

Hesitant, she waited for his direction as he silently stood across from her in the small tent. With his arms folded across his chest looking deep in thought, he took his time as he spoke.

"Have you heard of the Calling?" He asked as though the words were fragile. She wondered if he had been asking himself how to ask this question.

"I heard that Orlesian telling you about it," she answered honestly. "What is it?"

Nathaniel sighed and briefly explained the Calling to Hale. Her eyes widened as he spoke, her eyebrows raised. His tone was almost apologetic as if he did not enjoy telling her this information.

Hale shrugged. "Good. Wasn't planning on making it to 50 anyway. But what's it to do with the Orlesian Warden, if he was actually a Warden?"

Nathaniel smirked at her response, pleased with Hale's cynical optimism. Then he sighed again. "He was suffering from a false Calling," Nathaniel said and explained what little he knew about the false Calling and the reason she could not experience it. "The taint is so new to your blood, just like how you cannot sense the connection to other Wardens. The Ferelden Grey Wardens learned to overcome the false Calling when we first sensed it a year ago."

Hale nodded. It was all making sense. She knew that the bond of blood the Commander discussed so often in her speeches would not affect her yet. "So," she started. "How the fuck are you supposed to go into Orlais if this false Calling will fuck with yer head?"

He smiled as she cursed. His smile. A smirk that made her stomach twist and her head fuzzy. She realized she would be willing to do a number of things to get that smirk from him. "We can't touch the remaining corrupted Grey Wardens. Ideally, we stay as far from them as possible. You, young Warden, will be safe either way," Nathaniel replied.

Hale nodded and took a deep breath, processing all this information. "So what's it to do with me? It all sounds like stuff you should tell the other Senior Wardens." She asked skeptically, unsure of why he brought her to his tent.

Frowning, Nathaniel lowered his voice, his brow creased, serious, reminded of why she was there. "You broke protocol. You've killed a Grey Warden," Nathaniel scolded. "And you did so without my order."

"Yeah, I did," Hale gave a stubborn reply. "And you can bloody well thank me."

"Damn it, Hale. We don't just kill other Grey Wardens. You could have shot to debilitate him. We could have taken him for questioning and gathered more information. We might have found a cure for the corruption."

"But he was going to-" she defended, but Nate interrupted her sternly.

"It doesn't matter, Hale," he said with authority. His frown, his expression dark, disappointed, and almost angry. Hale's stomach dropped as he chided her. "Grey Wardens kill darkspawn. Killing humans is a last resort and certainly never our own brethren."

She squinted as he spoke. Really?! I saved this bastard's fucking life, and he's angry with me for it? Nate's words stoked her rage. "Fuck that, Lieutenant! You were out of yer mind and he was making it happen." Her voice raised, and he tried to hush her.

"Silence, Warden," he said through clenched teeth.

She didn't respond. The sound of her teeth grinding as her lips pursed was audible in the tent. She glared at him for a second before she turned on her feet and left in a rush. The tent flap swung back in from the force with which she fled.

She ran from the encampment. It was still in the process of being packed. Now early morning, the sky through the shade of trees was blue and clear. Head dizzy with fury and heart heavy with the sadness underneath, she jogged to a nearby clearing. Misunderstood, as usual. And worse, by the Lieutenant. He did not realize how scared she was for him. Stop being so fucking weak! She shamed herself as angry tears streamed down her face. Resentfully she wiped them away.

A moment later, she heard the sound of a man's steps jogging up behind her and she turned around to face the Lieutenant.

He ran straight to her, stopped, and glared. He was panting from the jog, but his voice was strong as it carried through the forest. "You do not walk away from me!" He yelled. "You report to me, Warden, and you do not walk away unless you are ordered to do so."

Nostrils flaring, Hale's lips remained closed, tightly pursed and her chin jutted. Her weight shifted to one leg in a defensive posture and her brow furrowed furiously.

"Are you even committed to the order?" Nathaniel asked in annoyance. He neared her, standing within arms reach. She could touch him, smell him, feel his body's warmth. But his chastising continued, "You can act like a Grey Warden and follow my commands...or would you rather just stay a thief?"

Before Nate acknowledged her motions, Hale's fist swung around and hit his jaw, hard. His head spun with and he staggered from the impact. Nathaniel shifted his mouth and touched his lip where it bled. When he looked back to Hale, she was flexing her hand and shaking it out. Her eyes were wide with fear when they looked up to meet his but she did not speak. Having seen his blood on his hand, he glared at her.

"Go." He ordered lowly, rage boiling beneath the surface. "Pack your tent."

Without another word, Hale turned and ran back to the encampment. Her chest tightened, heart pounding in her head and her face was hot with mixed emotions. It was as though her unusual ally had betrayed her with his harsh words. Even so, she knew her reaction was inexcusable. Hale was still angry with the Lieutenant and afraid of what consequences might follow, but most of all, she was saddened to have burned the bridge with the man she wanted.

[etaeternum]

The Huntress

Mother of Griffons CH 13 Hale’Harel. Nate gets to know my Hale.  Find it on AO3 or read the rest on Tumblr This is actually one of my favorite chapters from MoG. I did some updates to it a while ago and I like how they initiate things between Nathaniel and Hale. TONS of internal dialogue from Nate.

Panting, each Grey Warden’s legs clung to the saddle of their horse, sore from the repetitive impact. The trees blurred together and the sound of swift hooves stomping on dirt and dead leaves blended to a steady roar around them, pushing them all onward despite the cold. Earth, dampened by melted frost, kicked up and caked on their boots and their horses sped through thickening forest, dense with barren trees; the absence of foliage gave truth to the harsh and frigid temperature as they skirted the edges of Emprise du Lion.

Nathaniel Howe led the stampede of Grey Wardens as they raced the fall of night. The Wardens were driven to cover as much distance as possible before the denseness of trees would prevent their ability to navigate in the dark and ultimately to escape the icy climate of the Emprise. At the last viable moment, when each rider could only see as far ahead as the horse in front of them, Nathaniel lifted his arm to halt the band. Riders mimicked the motion in succession so that they ceased movement with fluidity, the wave of hooves' vibrations ebbed into the silence that reverberated around them. Their breath was audible and seemed to echo through the surrounding forest.

"Here," Nathaniel said firmly. The first of their party willing to break the eerie stillness. They had stopped at a clearing, a gap in the trees with enough room for their tents to fit within a relative proximity to each other with a campfire in the middle. Self-directed and eager for warmth, the Wardens dismounted their horses and set up their camp in the darkness. Nathaniel pulled a blond Elven man to the side as they worked.

"Scout the area for threats. Then find the highest point and look west. I want to know how far we are from the Graves. Take someone with you." Nathaniel gave orders to the archer. Hale watched in detached observance, curious of the interaction. Isenam was to be their guide through the Arbor Wilds, Hale remembered. Though he was now frowning, she noticed the wrinkles around his eyes indicating frequent laughter.

Isenam nodded to Nathaniel and grabbed his bow. "Val!" He barked the Dwarf’s nickname, startling Valum from where he secured the post of a tent into the earth. Isenam followed the call with a whistle and an arm gesture for Val to join him. The two secured their weapons and set forth from their camp to survey. Through laughter at the Dwarf's expense, the Elven man patted the Dwarf on the back while they walked.

Between the nine remaining members, the encampment was quickly erected and a campfire lit. Unlike the previous night, the Wardens crowded together around the crackling heat. The intensity of cold hit them suddenly as the exertion from riding and setting the camp had ceased. Even Hale did not isolate herself, joining the group around the fire with the same desperation as the rest. Nathaniel stood slightly removed, looking over his shoulder for the return of Isenam and Valum.

"So…" Hale chimed in as they held their gloved hands over the campfire. "Fuck this shite."

The group turned to her with surprised, questioning glances; one eyebrow raised inquisitively, Nathaniel's sight shifted to Hale, his arms crossed with authority. Her long, assertive strides exuded confidence as she smugly drifted from the seven other Wardens standing directly around the fire back to her horse, tied near some tents. She was all too comfortable- as if the forest was her home, and her Warden brethren had come for a visit. A moment later, she returned with a drum. It had a single flat, circular surface and the wood sides angled inward before flaring back out. She casually flipped it over, holding the weight of the drum in one hand, and pulled a flask from the body. Delicately, she set the drum down in front of her feet. "Let’s warm things up, yeah?" She said with a grin, bowing her head behind her flask and taking a sip. She hissed after she swallowed, her grin remaining as she offered the flask to the person to her left.

The Wardens were stunned. Some peeked over their shoulders to Nathaniel to see his reaction. His face remained ambivalent, and he did not intervene. There was nothing that said Grey Wardens were not permitted to drink during their quests, but typically they waited for permission from their acting leader, after duties were assigned. Since Nathaniel did not seem opposed, the next person in the circle shrugged and took the flask. She took a sip and coughed.

"Maker's beard, Hale. What is this?" She asked through coughs.

Hale laughed. "Qunari shite. Can't pronounce it." She surveyed the human mischievously, wondering what her reaction would be. "Warmer now though, aren't ya hun? That shite hits the spot."

The woman's eyebrow raised at Hale and she spoke firmly. "It's Damia, and yes. Thanks… I think." She lifted the flask and nodded in skeptical gratitude to Hale before passing the drink to the next person who sipped with a similar reaction.

Time passed as the flask slowly went around the circle and the group grew more comfortable, despite the frigid temperatures. Hale found a log for herself and pushed it towards the fire. The Wardens, including Damia, talked amongst themselves, laughter occasionally floating through the air. She sat down and pulled the drum to her, strumming her fingers on the taut surface. Growing bored, Hale glanced over her shoulder to Nathaniel as Isenam and Valum returned to him, giving him an update on their location and any risks. Listening as well as she could, she heard that they were safe. She took that as a cue.

"Lieutenant!" She yelled to grab his attention. "Fucking sit down and join us!"

Nathaniel smiled back. It was a charming grin, but she sensed something twisted within it. "No," he replied through his smirk.

He offered no explanation to his answer. Noticing some subtle similarities between Hale and Caoilainn, Nathaniel sarcastically thought to himself, This is exactly what I need. Another bossy woman in my life.

Her eyes narrowed to a squint and Nathaniel saw the frustration in her glance. The young Elf so eagerly wanted him to join her. And under other circumstances he would, but for tonight he was dutiful in his work and that included keeping his distance. The light of the fire danced on her face as she glared at him from a few paces away.

"Oh, come on! Warm up and have some fun."

"Someone has to stand watch, Hale," he replied resolutely. As he spoke, Isenam and Valum joined the circle and took the flask still wandering through the group. Though the flushed cheeks of those who had multiple sips of the alcohol were not visible by the campfire, the early signs of slurred speech and swayed movements were plain. The rest of the group found their own logs to push near the fire and sit.

"Fine," she replied curtly, her tone stubborn. "We'll have fun without you." She turned to Damia sitting next to her, laughing lightly, visibly intoxicated. "Hun," Hale called. Damia looked over her shoulder to Hale and squinted, playfully scolding Hale with her eyes for using the nickname. Hale curled her finger to bring Damia closer. Leaning over to Hale, Damia giggled loudly as Hale whispered something in her ear, then she nodded.

Nathaniel remained observant, but his suspicion of Hale grew as he followed the interaction. Before he had a chance to interrupt what he thought he saw, Hale beat her drum once then strummed her fingers loudly on the surface. With another beat, Damia stood. Hale beat again, and again. Then at once, she struck the surface in different locations in rapid succession, creating unique vibrations and notes to the music. It was quick, the beat alluring and provocative. Damia's hips swayed as she understood the beat; she pulled up another friend to dance with her. Hale's grin widened, and she made a high-pitched cry led by a loud roll of her tongue and an upward inflection. The other Wardens cried out, a few of the elves answering the unique call she made with their own. Soon, most of the Wardens were dancing to Hale's drumming, the others pleased with observing, and the flask still making its way around. Victoriously, Hale looked over to Nathaniel.

He was watching the activity around the campfire with mild awe. This was an experience as Lieutenant that he could safely say he never had, nor ever expected to. Under other circumstances, he would shut this party down, but Isenam and Val had reported no activity, not even animal, in the vicinity. His curiosity about the young Elven woman was magnified by her behavior. She was quite talented as a drummer, and even more so at lightening a mood. This is the Warden that started a brawl at Vigil’s Keep? He pondered.

The group didn't seem to notice Hale's drumming gradually fade. Those dancing were now sweating in the cold, the energy effortlessly shifting to laughter and jovial conversation. Nathaniel's glance shifted to Hale when she finished her song. Genuinely impressed with the festivities she had livened, and still wary to stay away from her, he gave Hale a salute.

And as though that were a message, Hale rose from her spot by the fire and walked to him, her drum in one hand. The crackling fire behind her prevented him from reading her expression, but the attractive motion of her hips was undeniable. He suspected she was smiling as she neared. Ever so slightly intimidated by the girl, unsure of what she was about to do, he shifted on his feet. Eyes remained locked, tension building with each slow step she took, until she walked right past him to her tent. Puzzled, he followed her with his eyes as she entered her tent with her drum. A moment later emerged with her quiver and bow instead.

"Good time for a hunt," she said through a smirk as she walked toward him. Then she lightly jogged away from the encampment.

"Wait!" Nathaniel yelled after her as Hale darted off. He glanced at the group by the fire and determined them safe before he rolled his eyes and followed her. Stupid girl. This is not the time or place for a fucking hunt. But concern and duty called him to follow. She was his charge, and he made a commitment to both his Commander and the Inquisitor to keep her safe.

Eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the outlines of trees, and at least a few yards ahead of him. He followed her footsteps, tuning into his senses for the light shifting of leaves, the soft thuds of her boots landing on softened dirt, any sign that she was near. Then suddenly, the sounds ceased. He stopped in a small clearing when he no longer heard her, met with immediate quiet. The activity of the encampment just barely audible in the distance. Damn. I took the fucking bait. "Hale?" He whispered loudly, recognizing that this was some ploy by the girl.

Then he heard a thump behind him. Acting only on reflexes, he swiftly turned around a lifted his hand in defense. Hale's eyes widened in fear before her lips spread to a shit-eating grin. She swallowed. "Yeah?"

Nathaniel lowered his hand quickly and glared viciously. "Fuck Hale. Don't do that. I would hurt killed you."

"But you didn't," she said lightly, crossing her arms as she studied his reaction to her.

"You wandered from the camp without permission," he scolded, just as frustrated with himself for following as with her for wandering off. "You put yourself, the camp and me in danger. I could have you reprimanded."

"But you won't," she quipped.

"But I should," he continued scolding.  "We're going back to the camp. This hunt is over."

Slow steps in the darkness with the distant glow of the campfire their target, Hale and Nathaniel walked in an awkward, weighted hush. The tension was palpable; Hale knew she was not in his favor. Delicate, deliberate, and experienced paces carried them carefully through the dense forest.

Then suddenly, Hale tripped. "Dammit!" She yelled as she grabbed Nathaniel in her fall. He caught her and lifted her forcefully. "Thanks, mate," she said with a friendly tone as she attempted to stand free from him, unable because Nathaniel held her by the wrist.

"Give it back," he said in a firm and impatient voice.

"What are you talkin' about?" Hale replied, attempting to play her innocence from any accusations he might be making. She lightly pulled at her wrist in a lazy effort to free herself from his grasp.

"I said," he restated. "Give it back."

With a huff Hale pulled a small sextant from her pocket with her other hand. Head lowered in guilt from being caught, she extended her hand with the gold navigation device resting in her palm. Nathaniel took it from her with his free hand and put it back in his pocket. "And I saw you steal something from Damia earlier too. I suggest you give it back, even better if you do so before she notices. The Grey Wardens are your family now and that won’t stop them from teaching you a lesson. You're cunning, hunter, but cunning won't save you from those far more skilled in stealth and combat than you."

Hale groaned and rolled her eyes, her lips full in an angry pout. "Got it," she replied stubbornly, glaring at Nathaniel with her narrow wrist still gripped in his large hand. "Let go."

"No," he stated bluntly, determined to finally uncover the mystery of this difficult young woman. "Not until you tell me what your problem is."

"Fuck sort of question is that?" She asked with irritation, clearly not interested in talking about herself, her hand limp in Nathaniel's bind. Her vitriol conflicted with her lax posture, and Nathaniel could not read her eyes as her messy hair cascaded around her face.

"The kind I'm asking as the officer you report to on this mission." Though his grip didn't loosen, he knew Hale could free herself if she truly wanted. Skilled enough in combat and especially evasion, she would easily know how to remove herself from his grasp, but she didn't. It compelled his intrigue.

"What d'you want to know?" She inquired begrudgingly.

She’s like a difficult kid. "Where do you come from?" Nathaniel asked in a serious tone.

He wasn't sure if she was considering her response or passively refusing to answer as a long pause passed between them. The tone of her energy did not match her body language, he noticed as he studied her hostility.

Eventually, she spoke bluntly and spit at the ground. "Go plough yerself."

Lovely, he thought bitterly. Then his head tilted back as his harsh and deep laugh boomed through the quiet. He was not amused. "Insubordination isn’t tolerated, Warden. And discharge is an option. Your conscription can be undone. So should you wish to stay out of jail, I’d suggest you follow my orders."

Resentment and sarcasm coated every word that came from her mouth. "I'm Dalish. The Inquisitor is my cousin, but you knew that. Didn't think I needed to tell you again."

Her reply lacked any information of substance. She was deliberately delaying the conversation. But why?

"I'm tiring of this game," he replied in aggravation. He knew that there was more to her story, though the details eluded him, and he wanted her to explain. "You didn't learn how to pickpocket from the Dalish, and you sure as shit didn't get an accent like that from the Lavellan clan." Nathaniel knew enough about the Lavellan from his time in the Free Marches. They were one of the Elven clans most inclined to trade with humans.

"Fine." Hale sighed. "Grew up in the Denerim Alienage." Heavy silence followed her words.

Nathaniel did not push for her to say more. Well, that explains it. He waited patiently until she sullenly continued.

"My da was a trader from the Lavellan clan. He taught me everything 'fore he died. I got stranded there." She stopped for a moment, staring hard at the ground, teeth clenched. She was seething at the details of the recollection she neglected to share. Her gaze traveled up to Nate's, daring him. "Stealing's handy fucking skill for a street rat, ya know? So's hunting. Made decent money selling what I killed."

They stood reticently; shocked at her story, Nathaniel released her wrist. He had no reply and for a moment he regretted pushing the information from her. But an inconsistency interrupted the regret. "When you saw the Inquisitor, you said 'you know I always come back.' How’s that if you've been living in the Alienage?" He was highly skeptical of the thief's honesty but his tone remained neutral.

"When I's old enough I left the Alienage to find my clan. But it wasn't home no more. I lived between them, but mostly I just stayed out of both. Forest's more home than some slum fucking street or some traveling elven circus. Then I got conscripted, and I guess I figured I owed it to our Bitch Queen Commander," Hale continued. Nathaniel, grateful for the darkness, stifled a laugh by coughing. "Because she killed the fucks who killed my dad. And now I'm a fucking Grey Warden."

Casually, the young Elf reached into her boot and pulled another flask. As she moved to unscrew the lid, Nathaniel saw the glimmer of the container. "Give me that," he said with exasperation, his tone resounding his disapproval. He took it from her hand and glared before sighing and drinking from the flask himself. He did not return it to her. "I’m sorry about all that happened,” he offered, but ultimately had no other words of apology for Hale. “But being a Grey Warden can change your life if you let it. Let's get back," he scolded, motioning for her to keep moving toward the camp and taking another swig from her flask.

"See you're finally willing to have some fun, Lieutenant." As they walked she mocked his earlier decline of joining the festivities she had riled. "Finally realizing yer leash is long enough to let loose?"

"What are you getting at?" Feelings of impatience and annoyance returned toward the young woman.

"Oh, well…" The condescension in her tone was noticeable as she mocked him. "The Bitch Queen Commander. She's got you pretty well trained, don’t she?" Nate did not immediately answer. "Come on mate, it's kind of obvious."

She’s a Nightmare Demon. Hale's humor disregarded the years of effort he had put into following Caoilainn's rules. The Warden Commander dreaded the idea of her army knowing of their dalliances.

"She's my Commander," he explained, glad she couldn’t see his slightly reddening face as they walked. "No, I don't have to explain anything to you. And I'll add a warning: insulting the Warden Commander is also insubordination."

"'Course it is," she nodded her head in sarcastic solemnity, then her tone shifted. "Care to reprimand me this time , Lieutenant? I'm sure you got some clever ways."

"What are you-" he started as his disapproval heightened, but stopped midsentence as he realized the suggestive nature of her tone. She was watching for his reaction with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to respond. He gave a short laugh and cut the line of conversation off. "Hah. No. Nope. We're still on a mission and you and I are not going there."

Did I just say that? Typically he was unopposed to advances from women, but he had been playing this game long enough to know when a woman was not worth the consequences, no matter how outstanding she might be in bed. This was one of those times and this young hunter was far too wild for his taste. Not to mention, the threats he had received from Caoilainn and the Inquisitor compounded the lack of interest in the risk. But he could not deny the magnetism of his curiosity about her and so far that kept him from following through with threats of reprimand or discharge. This girl's playing with fire.

"Oh, come on," she teased. "Aren't you the type to prey on young Wardens, Lieutenant?" Her question danced around Nathaniel’s suspected transgressions with intrigue; the eagerness in her voice was tangible.

He gave the same charming smile as before. I’m not taking the bait this time. "I might be,” he admitted nonchalantly. “But I'm not the one preying here, huntress."

Silence heavily filled the pause between them. When Hale replied, her grin was audible, her tone flirty and tempting. "But Lieutenant, yer girlfriend's not here. You can do what-"

Despite the buzz of the strong alcohol, Nathaniel's agility was not diminished. The sound of shuffling dead leaves, Hale's gasp, followed by a soft thud, concluded with Nathaniel backing Hale to a tree. He didn't touch her, aware the proximity of this interaction contradicted his professionalism. It's difficult to remain professional with this girl. They were still out of earshot from the camp though the activity from around the campfire was discernable. "I mean it, Hale." He said darkly, clearly vexed. "You're treading on thin ice."

She flashed her teeth in a sultry half snarl, half smile. He could feel her breath against him. The clouds of air leaving their mouths in small puffs was visible in the cold. "It's good I'm light on my feet then." Her voice was low, testing, and unafraid.

They stayed like this for many slow, stretched seconds, glaring at each other, neither willing to succumb. Her weight was shifted to one leg, a defensive posture. So use it. React. Yet, Nate noticed again that she did not push closer to him. She had several points from this position that she could overpower him but she didn't. Instead, she stayed passively pinned.

"Fine. Promise, Lieutenant. I'll be on my best behavior," Hale caved first and Nathaniel released her.

"Good," he replied shortly, certain that her words were meaningless, if only because he had prevaricated the same commitment to Caoilainn time and time again. The pair walked back to the camp.

[the-smol-death]

Caoilainn Theirin (née Cousland)

She’s so beautiful. This character has evolved so much since I started writing her in Mother of Griffons. This picture captures her development into a pensive and careful woman, without sacrificing her tenacity. I am so grateful I had the chance to commission the talented and kind @ketsie

Please commission this artist and/ or support them through Ko-fi, for all that is good and right in this world. 

[the-smol-death]

OC Relationship Meme

I was tagged by the sweetest @starsandskies This is exactly what I need to do today. I’m tagging: @melaena @turbootaku @tallulahlucy @wildheart-mustang @heartsyhawk and whoever else wants to. I am not sure of everyone's status in writing since I’ve been out of the loop for so long. 

I’m bored so I’m going to go with Caoilainn Cousland-Theirin at the current state in the fic and I’ll prob do Hale in a separate post. Caoilainn and Alistair

Caoilainn and Morrigan

Caoilainn and Fergus

[the-smol-death]

I am so excited to get this commission of tatted Biker!Nathaniel Howe by @mrgabel! Thank you so much!!!!! I highly recommend commissioning this artist! He is wonderful to work with! I’m using this as inspiration for my Warden MC AU: Wardens of Ferelden MC. 

[mrgabel]

etaeternum replied to your post “About Patreon”

Sorry to hear about longer hiatus but I look forward to seeing new stuff!!!

Thank you so much (▰˘◡˘▰) Such positive feedback keeps me going!