#vhenadhal

[jcined-blog]

@vhenadhal

             He is every sort of motivation for her HATRED of shems ------- noble monsters.  Oh, yes, my lord.  She hates him already, a fact she’s made clear.  She has never met a human ( sans alistair, perhaps ) who has not given her ample reason to, let alone one of noble blood.  Let alone one so arrogant and spoiled.  “What are you staring at, quick?”  The words bite out out past her teeth, acidic and sharp.

[bleedouts-blog]

" I would not trade it for anything. " ( from maric :') )

inquisition.  |  accepting.  |   @vhenadhal

this  relationship  budded  slow.  marriage  was  marriage  –  a  political  station  to  wedge  the  guerrins  into  the  royal  line,  she’  sure;  the  only  ferelden  noble  family  of  any  real  standing  anymore,  loyal  to  the  theirin  line  to  the  end.  rowan  had  been  told  this  is  what  it’d  come  to,  once  the  usurpers  were  cast  out.  she  simply  hadn’t  believed  it,  then,  and  spent  her  days  unhorsing  silly  boys  or  biting  her  sword  into  dummy  wood,  or  sometimes  just  trees.  

maric  was  a  bloody  idiot.  or,  that’s  what  everyone  had  said,  anyway.  rowan  heard  them  talking  before,  some  fragile  little  boy  in  comparison  to  his  wicked-strong  and  commandeering  mother,  promise  with  a  sword  and  wears  his  armor  well,  but  untrained,  letting  the  intricacies  of  politics  fly  past  his  youthful  head.  

rowan,  in  comparison,  had  always  listened.

she  knew  it  would  come  to  their  marriage,  in  the  end  –  only  putting  it  into  action  was..  odd.  more  difficult.  she’d  not  wanted  it,  when  it  came,  spent  her  time  keeping  up  appearances  at  his  coronation,  and  only  wishing  loghain  would  somehow  take  her  to  gwaren.  

that  never  happened.  and  now  she  is  with  child.

she  doesn’t  resent  maric.  that  stiff  betrothal  took  time  to  unfurl  like  this,  but  it  had.  she  found  herself  reaching  beyond  their  friendship,  and  understanding  why  someone  like  katriel  had  truly  adored  him.  he  was  undermined,  and  –  quite  foolish,  at  times,  but  never  truly  stupid,  and  never  cruel,  or  callous.  vengeful,  yes,  but  it  was  a  price  that  had  been  owed,  and  rowan  had  been  happy  to  pay  it  back.  

months  had  blended  into  years.  his  laugh  is  always  kind.  and  he  cherishes  her,  in  a  way  she  hadn’t  anticipated.  (hands  across  her  hard  abdomen,  soft  now  with  the  gentle  bump,  reminiscing   in  laughter  as  if  they  were  a  hundred  years  old,  and  their  battles  were  far  off;  childish  games,  their  bed  sheet  wrapped  around  her  figure  as  she  pulled  it  off  of  him  and  dared  him  with  a  devious  grin  and  finger  to  come  and  take  it  back).  

it  was  different  with  loghain  –  less  silly.  more  serious.  she  could  always  feel  her  heart  in  his  hand.  but  with  maric,  it’s  more  like  he  is  living  every  day  alongside  her,  instead  of  being  apart  of  her. 

it  isn’t  bad.  just  different.  

he  touches  her  growing  belly  now.  rowan  has  traded  steel  for  dresses,  and  dresses  for  gowns  –  and  though  this  is  the  place  they’ve  reached,  her  insecurities  rise  like  wild  dogs.  is  this?  what  you  want,  maric?  the  question  is  right  there,  unspoken,  if  had  been  me,  instead  of  her  –  

i  would  not  trade  it  for  anything.  she  brings  her  eyes  up  to  meet  his,  only  then  realizing  how  impossibly  close  his  face  is  to  hers.  she  blinks,  surprised  to  feel  tears  in  her  eyes.  he  circles  one  of  her  strong  shoulders,  cupping  at  the  back  of  her  arm,  other  hand  remaining  delicately  upon  the  gentle  swell  of  her  stomach.  she  does  cry,  then.  

[grcywardcn-a-blog]

vhenadhal replied to your post: fun fact: duncan would totally use a fake...

BUT WHERE WOULD THEY GO

obvs to the Warden Adoption Agency

but no really duncan would do his best to rehome them and find someone who would care for them bc duncan makes friends wherever the fuck he goes, and if one town won’t care about their orphans, he knows about 12 farmer families that are having a hard time having kids who would love the little ones

[starsuntxuched-blog]

@vhenadhal​ || within and without

          It has haunting, almost, the way the snow cascaded about the wreckage, casting out any chance of an ember taking form. Haven was silent, or at least what as left of it, nestled down beneath the smoke and ash. They were safe, they were told as they bundled up as close to one another that they could taste the other's breath. No one spoke, no one dared to at this point. Not even Cassandra as she paced about, fingers coiled up into her hair as she searched for something to say, anything. Cullen remained not far behind, fingers collapsed into a pyramid that rested on the scruff of his chin. The only thing that was certain among them - among the people, among the advisers - was the safety of their Herald, of Merilin. The woman who boldly charged at Corypheus, courageously stood against him - it was commendable, really. Still, their eyes lingered about the storm, in hopes they would spot her physique trudging through. They all did.

          Remaining close to Josephine, her hand draped ever so gently against the silk of her shirt sleeve, Leliana's attention rested on the sky. Her attention was sharp, but through the smog it was no use. As silly as it seemed, the red's worry rested with her ravens - whom she set free the moment the destruction happened. All she could think about was them trapped, bound in their metal cages as the stone from stronghold paraded about them, pelting them, wounding them. She doubted they would come back, honestly. They were likely taking shelter in a tree far from danger, and it was all Leliana could hope for. Still, her heart ached - for the nugs that pounced outside Haven, for the fennecs that played with their own tails just meters from you. Her heart ached for what was and what was yet to come, and it left her unsettled. 

          Though, she worried more so about Merilin. She had taken kindly to the woman, appreciating her company much more than she let the other believe. Time seemed to do that to her, seemed to do that to many of them at the encampment; but this Herald, this elf - it was different. As much as she wanted to be alone, Leliana found herself wanting to speak with her more and more, wanting to tell her more and more. It was a calming feeling, really. A surprising feeling. One that left her lips ever-so smoothly coiled into even the smallest of grins. It was nice having that, even if it was just for a moment. She could say these things to Josephine, yes - but a part of her couldn't. She could allow herself to cause her friend to worry, to fret. To bother herself with Leliana's seemingly frivilous problems; but Maker, was it nice to let it out once in a while.

          Lettng out a sigh that left her heart heavy and her mind weary, the red could only gaze into the storm that remained before them. Perhaps I should look, she thought to herself, someone should look for her; but they all expected the worse. With an explosion like that, it would be a miracle if she made it out at all. Still, Leliana bowed her head, praying to the Maker as strongly as she possibly could.

[fadedforthem]

@vhenadhal​ | cont. from here.

But here is the thing: he has seen the fabric of the world rearrange itself. Here is the thing: he has seen and knows how water can burn, how wells can drown, how magic can creep and creep and creep. Some might perhaps call it cancer: it devours, and seeps and curls around and breaks.

Magic so strong he has seen it tear down kingdoms and despair.

He blinks. The world detaches from his bones when he thinks of the agony he’s seen. He swallows. His flesh gone and in its place the mask: he cannot say “I know because I’ve seen it,” cannot shake his friend to sanity over the blood he himself spilled and saw wetting his hands and heart, cannot say, cannot say, “For she is terrible and they are terrible and I have seen them devour worlds.”

The mask says: “I am glad you chose Morrigan over yourself, Inquisitor.”

Such easy patterns. The words almost staggering in their lying clarity. His flesh floats above his bones.

“I ask simply how you think to use the power you now wield.”

[fenharelxenansal]

( Power Mom )

DESCRIBE ONE OF YOUR OC’S TO ME & I’LL TELL YOU WHICH ONE OF MINE I SHIP THEM WITH !!!

Oh man, Merilin!!! I love her!! I keep thinking about her with Rhiannon Trevelyan, honestly; she’s a sheltered noble girl who learned archery to improve her posture and was expected to join the Chantry before the Conclave, and after? Just tries to please everyone as much as possible. I could see Merilin trying to mother her at first but Rhi refusing to allow it, because she’s got a strong personality that doesn’t take well to being fussed over. She’d make Merilin see her as an equal and maybe brighten her worldview a bit with her naïveté :’’’)