hey i actually have something relatively new for this! a while ago i had a thought like "what would vax's life have been like if her parents hadn't died and she'd grown up in the alienage with her family?"
some concepts
vax would have been a blacksmith, apprenticed under her dad, and been very involved in her community since she's from the hahren's family. i have a whole idea for a fic in the works (which will also have vax/lucanis bc i'm ship trash lol). not gonna spoil too much about it here (i've word vomited all over my mutuals about this already), but i'll put the intro from the current draft under the cut here:
WIP: blacksmith!vax au
Treviso’s Grande Markets glowed in the evenings. The braziers which lit the walkways were covered with decorative grates to keep stray sparks from catching on nearby merchandise. Colored canopies crowned each stall; each one the jealously guarded signature of the merchant beneath it. The air was perfumed with spices and the music from the buskers as they made their circuit, looping through the entrances and around the outer corridors with an overturned bonnet for coin. Travelers and natives alike took their time perusing the wares.
The most prestigious merchants were placed closest to the middle, lining the main thoroughfares through the market proper. The next best were placed along the outer sections, facing the entry and exit ways for the casual shopper to pick at for one impulse or another. The lowest rank of merchants sold their wares across from these, along the outer edges of the plaza, just beyond the braziers' glow.
The Ajuelan Blacksmith stall stood in one of these cool corners just across the way from a fishmonger. Adorning its tables and rust-red canvas walls were blades of every utility. Kitchen knives and stilettos shared the same space as hook axes and longswords.
Vax Ajuelan wiped her brow with her forearm, although her palms were clean. It was a blacksmith’s habit, and her hands and arms similarly betrayed her profession with their thickness disproportionate to the rest of her frame. She was broad in the shoulders—more than she would like—and lean through the legs. She stood about average height for an elf and was unremarkable in the face, save for the uncanny brightness of her eyes. Her black hair contrasted the yellow paleness of her skin and curled down her back, bound with a thick band into a low tail. She’d re-arranged the blades on the front table again, and had stood a little ways back from the stall to assess the look.
“Are the fish not biting today?”
Vax turned her head back to the fishmonger, grinning with her teeth. “How would you go about drawing them in, signore?” Vax’s voice was chalk-dusted and tended to flatten on vowels. It smacked heavily of the alienage.
“Live bait,” he replied, hefting his own wares into the waiting arms of his assistant. The fishmongers were entertaining, Vax supposed. It was a novelty for foreigners to watch them toss fish back and forth, making calls on order for various fresh fish, whole or filleted. “Or a more attractive lure.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Vax turned back to the stall. There were a fair few metalworkers in the market, but not so many elves. The Ajuelan family had only just managed to buy the space seven months prior and were still gambling on the investment.
@mustardprecum tagged me forever ago for this so i'll share a bit of vax/lucanis smut i've started noodling around with
if you got a WIP cookin rn consider yourself tagged bc i don't remember who's working on stuff rn or not lmao
Vax was aware of textures: the weave of the couch cushions under her back, the soft brush of her own hair over her forehead and against her cheek, and the bristle of Lucanis's beard teasing the skin of her inner thighs. She would have thought he was being a terrible tease had she the capacity to think at all. As it was, her eyes were screwed shut and she could hear only the pounding of her heart in time with the wet, sucking sounds of Lucanis's attentions.
Her fingers gripped at the armrest of the couch, the tips going white as Lucanis swirled his tongue around the head of her cock. He hummed as he went down again, swallowing her up. A needy moan spilled from her throat and she tried to buck against the firm pressure of his hands on her hips. He pulled off again and dragged his lips along the side of her shaft, pressed more kisses to the crease of her thighs and then mouthed at her balls. This time a sob tore from her throat. She was going to go crazy if he kept this up.
The night is pleasantly mild, as it often is in Treviso. The Alienage is just far enough from the market that the sounds of nightlife are muffled over the rooftops. At the base of the Vhenadahl, crouched down with a lantern and a myriad of paints and brushes around them, is Rook.
Lucanis doesn't approach right away; it's novel to see Rook so— for lack of a better word— relaxed. There's a quiet peace around them as they dip their fingers in various paints and apply it to the bark of the Vhenadahl. The shapes they make echo the same angular design he's seen among the Elvhen ruins and in Dalish craft, but retains certain distinctions Lucanis recognizes from Antivan graffiti.
So absorbed is Rook in their work that Lucanis is able to walk right up to them unnoticed. Normally, Rook would have heard his approach by now. That Rook feels comfortable enough in this place to lower their guard so much is also novel.
"Rook."
Rook doesn't quite startle, but they do straighten and Lucanis swears he just saw their ears perk.
"Lucanis?" they ask, craning their head to peer at him over their shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
"Everyone was looking for you," he replies. "Viago told me you would be here."
It's hard to tell by the lantern-light, but he thinks he sees a slight darkening in Rook's cheeks.
"Oh," they say, sheepish. To Lucanis's unexpected dismay, they wipe their fingers on a cloth and start to pack up the paints.
"No, no," he finds himself saying, hand outstretched. "Nothing urgent is happening. We just didn't know where you went."
To discourage them from getting up further, Lucanis finds himself crouching down beside them. Rook stares at him, stunned, before turning back to the paints in their hands.
"It's not a big deal. I was pretty much done anyway," they protest, weakly.
Lucanis looks at the clearly half-finished work. The difference between what Rook has done thus far and the faded, patchy parts that they'd been restoring is stark.
"I have time," he says, settling into a more comfortable position. He keeps his eyes on the tree, but he can practically feel the tension leaving Rook's body. "I didn't know you were an artist."
"I'm not, really," they say. "It's an elf thing. Well, a city elf thing. The hahren is supposed to be in charge of caring for the Vhenadahl. Ever since the Antaam took over, the tree's been a little…neglected."
"A shame."
"Yeah."
They both go quiet, looking up at the tree while they sit together in that comfortable stillness. It feels like peace.
-
A/N: I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about city elves, and for Vax in particular. Their heritage has had a lot of influence on them, both as an elf and as an Antivan. Vax's grandmother had been hahren before she died, and Vax learned a lot about old elvhen customs from her. I have a headcanon, though, that there's some divergence between the Dalish history and the city elf history, and even their stories and some of their practices have distinctions.
"You can't buy something for everybody but yourself, Lucanis." The shopper plucked up the wyvern-tooth dagger from the table and turned to her. "How much is this?"
Crows were easy to spot. They only ever really made themselves invisible if a job called for it. Otherwise, they bore gear and tattoos broadcasting their membership for all of Thedas to see. This one was no different.
roughhhhhh couple of sentences from my blacksmith!vax fic. still slowly, slowly working on it (kind of 😭)
tagging: @pwney @jb-nonsense and anyone else on here who's writing right now
Treviso’s Grande Markets glowed in the evenings. The braziers which lit up the walkways were covered with decorative grates to keep stray sparks from catching on nearby merchandise. Colored canopies crowned each stall; each one the jealously guarded signature of the merchant beneath it. The air was perfumed with spices, a little burned in incense trays to magnify their aroma and draw customers in by the nose. Buskers made a circuit, looping through the entrances and around the outer corridors with an overturned bonnet for coin. Travelers and natives alike took their time perusing the wares.
The layout of the market placed the most prestigious merchants closest to the middle where they lined the main thoroughfares through the market proper. The next best were placed along the outer sections, facing the entry and exit ways for the casual shopper to pick at for one impulse or another. The lowest rank of merchants sold their wares across from these, along the outer edges of the plaza, just beyind the braziers' glow. The Ajuelan Blacksmith stall stood in one of these cool corners across from a fishmonger.
Vax Ajuelan wiped her brow with her forearm, although her palms were clean. It was a blacksmith’s habit, and her hands and arms similarly betrayed her profession with their thickness disproportionate to the rest of her frame. She was broad in the shoulders—more than she would like—and lean through the legs. She stood about average height for an elf and was unremarkable in the face, save for the uncanny brightness of her eyes. Her black hair contrasted the yellow paleness of her skin and curled down her back, bound with a thick band into a low tail. She’d re-arranged the blades on the front table again, and had stood a little ways back from the stall to assess the look.
my lil dragon age blacksmith!vax au fic that i'm poking at between work and school. it's rough here and i feel like i got a long way to go, but i think it's a good start at least.
Tagging: @jb-nonsense @pwney and idr who else is working on stuff atm so if you have a wip rn consider yourself tagged!
who wants to read some dumb lil fluff i wrote for my rook and lucanis
-
They leave Café Pietra under moonlight. Treviso’s nightlife is in full swing and the music of it accompanies them on their stroll back to the Diamond.
A hand reaches out and fingers entwine, palm-to-palm. The warm flutter of their heartbeats pulse against each other where skin meets skin. Lucanis smiles, rare and genuine. A match to it grows on Vax's face in turn. For the time being, they are simply two people enjoying the night together.
They talk on the way of inconsequential things: food and music and books they’ve read. Lucanis tells Vax about how he learned to knit from one of the maids at the villa when he was a teenager.
“It's good dexterity training,” he says. He promises to teach Vax a few patterns he's picked up.
Vax shares some old dishes that were popular in the Alienage when she was a child and how her grandma use to pan-fry polenta cakes and smother them with a sweet tomato sauce.
“Is that a hint?” he asks with a smirk. Vax's forehead is level with his nose, just about the perfect height for kissing.
“Could be,” she says. Her fingers squeeze around his and there's a fullness in his heart that he’s yet to name.
Vax lets him go to greet Viago when they reach the second floor of the casino. Their hands feel cold, but their cheeks are warm.
On the other side of the Eluvian, they come together again: this time pressed flush from wrist to shoulder, ambling with the slow gait of lovers who don’t want the night to end yet.
But nights do end and far too soon they’re at the top of the stairs. They kiss their goodnights: one kiss becoming three and each lingering longer than the last.
After they part, Lucanis only makes it halfway to the door when Vax's voice stops him.
“Did you forget something?” he asks.
“Sure did,” is her reply, and then her arms are around his neck and he’s kissing her again. She cherishes the feeling of him: his hands on her back, his beard against her cheek, his hair between her fingers.
Finally, they must part. Vax brushes her nose against his and smiles.
“Yep,” she says, “that about covers it.”
He laughs against her lips but lets her pull away. At least one of them should get some sleep tonight.
He watches her bound up the stairs in twos, waves back when she turns to bid him goodnight one more time. He doesn’t turn to the door until she’s finally out of sight.
