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.

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.

[ @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.

😘

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

😃 - To me, you are easy to approach.

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

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

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

oh my god Rama you absolute nerd

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.