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Once Upon a Warden: Ever After - Crossover Fic for 'Dragon Age' and 'Sofia the First' Master Post
In-Process fic | Word count: 16,103 | 13+
Part 2 of Tales Beyond the Eluvian
Find part 1 here
Summary:
Happily ever after was supposed to be the easy part.
After surviving blight, monsters and the near end of worlds, Evaline and Cedric are finally building a life together in Enchancia. Between royal obligations, magical mishaps, and the occasional interdimensional complication, the fure almost feels normal.
Almost.
The arrival of King Magnus and his royal sorcerer, Greylock the grand stirs tensions Cedric would rather ignore. Much to his misfortune, he is forced to confront old fears about power, worth and the kind of man he wants to become. Meanwhile, Evaline discovers that healing from war is just as difficult as surviving it.
Love may have saved them once. But choosing each other every day afterward? That might be the real adventure.
Crossover, Crack Crossover, hyperfixation meets toddler's comfort show, alternate universe-canon divergence, eluvians (dragon age), canon-typical violence for my Dragon Age folks, I couldn't help myself but write a sequel
AO3 Link
Tumblr Chapter Directory
Chapter 01- Something Brewing
Chapter 02- A Guy Like You
Chapter 03 - Learning From the Flowers
Chapter 04 - The Bare Necessities
Chapter 05 - So This is Love
Chapter 06 - The Witch of the Wilds
Chapter 07 - Secrets, Secrets
Chapter 08 - Dreaming and Scheming
He stepped closer, voice lowering so only Evaline could hear. His hand hovered for a heartbeat before settling gently at her waist. “May I?”
Evaline’s answer came without hesitation.
“Of course.”
The ballroom seemed to hush — not from command, but from anticipation — as Cedric leaned in and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to Evaline’s lips.
My sister @s0alaina, once more, has brought another moment of Once Upon a Warden to life. What's a fairy tale happy ending without true love's kiss? Maker knows, Cedric earned it.
Something inside him cracked. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her against him, holding her as though he could keep her here by sheer force. Her head fell limply against his shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek.
She didn’t stir.
“Evaline… please.” His voice broke. “I can’t... Wake up. Come on, wake up.”
My sister @s0alaina has done it again, and helped bring another moment of Once Upon a Warden to life. In the penultimate chapter, it seems that day is won against an ancient evil that threatens Enchancia, but at what cost?
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Once Upon a Warden- Crossover Fic for 'Dragon Age' and 'Sofia the First' Pod Fic Master Post
Completed fic | Word count: 90,745 | 13+
Summary:
Cedric the Sorcerer wanted nothing more than to see what secrets lay beyond an ancient, magical mirror. Rather than finding the key to taking over the kingdom of Enchancia, a battle-worn, world-weary warrior stumbled into his arms instead.Evaline Surana, Hero of Ferelden, vanquisher of the Archdemon, Urthemiel, had faced everything the world of Thedas could throw at her. She had faced betrayal, heartbreak, darkspawn and demons-- but nothing prepared her for her greatest challenge yet: a world of pastel castles, talking animals and a kingdom where most problems are solved through song. As old magics begin to unravel across two worlds, Evaline must reconcile with her past, Cedric must (begrudgingly) rise to the occasion and Princess Sofia might be the only one who truly understands what it means to be a hero.What a tale this will be for the bards.
AO3 Link | Tumblr Master Post Link
Below the cut is the directory for the individual Pod Fic chapters
So You Want to Read Once Upon a Warden (But Know Nothing About Dragon Age)
First of all, hi. I love you. Thank you for even considering diving into my slightly (okay more than slightly) unhinged crossover of fairytale magic and dark fantasy trauma.
Second, I promise you do not need to know Dragon Age lore to enjoy this story.
But! If you’re someone who likes having a little extra context (or you just want to know what everyone is talking about when they say things like “the Blight” with the emotional weight of a thousand tragedies), this guide is for you.
So, The Very Basics of it All:
Once Upon a Warden is a crossover between Sofia the First and the world of Dragon Age.
Just think:
-Enchancia = bright, magical, fairytale logic and everything you love about Disney
-Thedas (Dragon Age world) = magic is real but everyone is stressed about it all the time. Also there's dragons.
Magic exists in Thedas, but it’s heavily controlled and feared. There are monsters. There are copious amounts of religious and other kinds of trauma. There are also found families and people trying their best.
Our Hero
Evaline Surana
-A mage (that’s what they call sorcerers in Thedas)
-An elf (think Lord of the Rings brand. Not Christmas brand.)
-Grew up in a system where mages are locked away “for everyone’s safety”
-Became the Hero of Ferelden by stopping a literal apocalypse
-Carries something called the Taint (we’ll get there)
She’s your main POV into the Dragon Age side of things. In many ways she’s an OC, but she’s also canon-sort-of. She’s my customized Main Character for the first game in the series and I love everything about her.
Places You Might Hear About
Ferelden
-The kingdom where Evaline is from
-War-torn, muddy, has seen things
-Still standing anyway
Skyhold
-Big mountain fortress in Ferelden
-Headquarters of the Inquisition
-Where a lot of important conversations (and emotional damage) happen
The Fade
-Dream-like magic dimension
-Where spirits and demons live
-Mages draw power from here
It’s weird. It’s not supposed to make perfect sense. That’s normal.
The Crossroads
-In-between space in The Fade connected by magical mirrors called Eluvians
-Kind of like a hub world for traveling impossible distances
-Also where things can get… unsettling
Quick Terms You’ll See
-Blight: A corruption that spreads and destroys
-The Taint: What Grey Wardens have: helps them fight but shortens their life
-Eluvian: Magic mirror for travel
-Archdemon: The worst possible version of a darkspawn
Notable Organizations
The Grey Wardens
-People who fight monsters called darkspawn
-They go through a ritual that gives them the Taint/the Blight
-This helps them fight, but also slowly kills them
The Circle of Magi
-Where mages are raised and trained
-Also where they are… not allowed to leave freely
-Evaline grew up in one
The Inquisition
-Big “save the world” organization
-Mix of fighters, spies, and mages
-Very important once worlds start colliding
Darkspawn
-Corrupted monsters
-Spread something called the Blight
-Universally bad news
Characters You'll Meet (with pictures!)
Alistair Theirin
(you get the illustration because I hate his Inquisition redesign)
King of Ferelden. Former warrior. Professional deflector of emotions via humor
Was part of Evaline’s past in a very significant way
Still deeply tied to everything she went through
Morrigan
Known as the Witch of the Wilds, and advisor to the Empress of Orlais (another kingdom in Thedas, don’t worry about it)
A mage that grew up outside of The Circle and known as a dangerous apostate
Sharp, witty and can shapeshift
Maara Adaar
The Inquisitor: she’s in charge of the Inquisition (protag of the third DA game)
Qunari warrior that could probably take down a dragon single-handed if she wanted to
Super tall and towers over (most) everyone
Leliana
Spymaster of the Inquisition, former bard
Travelled with Evaline when they were younger
Mysterious but also very sweet
Josephine Montilyet
Ambassador to the Inquisition, also was a bard once
Has the cutest accent from the kingdom of Antiva
Kind, but can destroy a reputation with a strongly worded letter
Cullen Rutherford
Commander of the Inquisition army, skilled warrior and former templar (think magic cops)
He was an acquaintance of Evaline’s from her time at The Circle of Magi (he had a crush on her)
Has dreamy hair now but used to look like early 2000’s Justin Timberlake
Cassandra Pentaghast
Advisor to Inquisitor Adaar, also a warrior
Her accent is quite thick after growing up in the kingdom of Nevarra and it adds to her strict commanding presence
She’s secretly into bad romance novels
Warden Blackwall
A Grey Warden with a secret
Handy with a sword and shield, but loves to make wooden toys in his spare time
Beard game is on point
The Iron Bull
Big Qunari warrior and former spy
Loves fighting, drinks, and his found family
Surprisingly insightful underneath all of that
Cole
Has the most iconic hat out of all the rogues
Is actually a spirit in a human body so he knows things
Because he knows things, he’ll say things that are mildly unsettling
Sera
Elven rogue that’s handy with a bow
Her favorite pastime is pranking other members of the Inquisition
Loves women
Varric Tethras
Dwarf with the coolest crossbow you ever did see (her name is Bianca)
He’s an author in his spare time
Master of giving everyone cool nicknames
Dorian Pavus
A mage from the Tevinter Empire (magic is less controlled there)
Arguably the most fashionable of the Inquisition
Loves men
Solas
Apostate mage like Morrigan, considered something of a rebel
Knows a lot about magic and the Fade
Soft-spoken, thoughtful, and absolutely hiding something
Dresses like a hobo
Vivienne/ Madame de Fer
Empress Celene’s Court Mage (She’s basically Cedric but in fantasy France)
Think Miranda Priestly from Devil Wears Prada
Is actually the most fashionable of the Inquisition (sorry Dorian)
Moriah Hawke
The Champion of Kirkwall (The custom protagonist from the second Dragon Age game)
The second cheekiest archer you’ll meet after Sera
Definitely doesn’t have a thing for her best friend, Varric
Notes: 13+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Find this work on AO3. Tumblr master post here.
Previous Chapter
Cedric had slept perhaps two hours. That may even have been generous. At some point during the night he had apparently drifted face-first onto an open spellbook in his workshop, only to awaken sometime before dawn with ink smeared across one cheek and a deeply concerning crick in his neck.
The spellbook itself had fared little better. One entire page now bore the faint outline of his sleeve and what looked suspiciously like half a tea stain. Cedric stared at it for a long moment.
“…Well,” he informed the ruined page hoarsely, “we have all suffered greatly.”
The page, perhaps wisely, offered no opinion.
With a weary sigh, he pushed himself upright from the worktable and rubbed both hands down his face. Outside the tower windows, the first traces of morning sunlight had only just begun to spill across the castle gardens below. Far too early for coherent thought.
Unfortunately, coherent thought had not visited him once all night regardless. Every time he closed his eyes, the previous day replayed itself in agonizing clarity.
Magnus standing comfortably inside Evaline’s chambers surrounded by enough flowers to bankrupt a small kingdom. Morrigan stepping through the Eluvian looking moments away from hexing someone on principle alone. Kieran quietly peering into Cedric’s soul with the unsettling precision only strange magical children seemed capable of possessing.
You look at her correctly.
Cedric groaned softly and dropped his forehead back against the table. That sentence had lodged itself somewhere deep behind his ribs and refused to leave. Because the truly unfortunate thing was that Kieran had sounded sincere.
Not teasing. Not cryptic for the sake of chaos, though the boy certainly possessed the capacity for it. Simply observant in that strange, disarming way children occasionally were.
And yet… Cedric closed his eyes briefly. If the boy knew everything, he doubted he would sound nearly so approving.
A sharp rap against the workshop door startled him upright before his thoughts could wander further into catastrophe.
“Go away,” Cedric called automatically.
The door opened anyway. Greylock strolled inside carrying two cups of tea and the unmistakable expression of a man who had already decided someone else’s morning was about to become his entertainment.
“Oh good,” Greylock said brightly. “You’re conscious. Barely, admittedly, but we must celebrate small victories.”
“You’ve brought tea," Cedric observed, eyes narrowing immediately. "That means you intend to say something upsetting.”
“Please,” Greylock snorted, handing him the teacup. “I can say upsetting things entirely without refreshments.”
Suspicion remained warranted, but Cedric accepted the tea anyway. Mostly because without it he risked physically collapsing where he stood. Greylock leaned casually against the nearby shelf, gaze drifting meaningfully across the workshop.
“You slept here.”
“It seemed preferable to throwing myself from the tower.”
“Mm.” Greylock sipped his tea thoughtfully. “And how dramatic are we feeling this morning on a scale from one to tragic poetry?”
Cedric scowled into his cup. “I am not discussing this with you.”
“Discussing what? The king in love with Evaline? The Lady Morrigan appearing through an inter-dimensional mirror? Or your expression last night, which resembled a man watching his own execution unfold in real time?”
“Wonderful,” Cedric muttered, closing his eyes for a brief, merciful moment. “My suffering has become publicly observable.”
Greylock hummed sympathetically without sounding remotely sympathetic. “To be fair, you do suffer very loudly.”
Opening his mouth to retort, Cedric paused as he caught movement beyond the workshop windows. Down in the gardens below, castle staff hurried between pathways carrying fresh bundles of flowers already being arranged throughout the courtyard. He stared incredulously.
“There are more?”
Greylock followed his gaze. “Ah. Yes. His Majesty apparently sent additional arrangements at sunrise.”
A sound of genuine despair left Cedric before he could stop it.
Studying him over the rim of his cup, it was a moment before Greylock’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “You do realize,” he said carefully, “that she did not exactly appear swept away by him.”
Cedric laughed once under his breath, humorless. “That hardly matters.”
“It matters rather a lot, actually.”
“No,” Cedric replied quietly, setting his untouched tea aside. “What matters is that Magnus is precisely the sort of man someone like Evaline deserves.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Greylock’s brows lifted slightly. “And what sort of man is that?”
Cedric gestured vaguely toward the windows as though the answer ought to be obvious. “A king,” he said flatly. “Confident. Accomplished. Someone who does not accidentally fall asleep on unstable spellwork because he is too busy unraveling over flower arrangements.”
The other sorcerer considered him for a beat. “You know,” Greylock said at last, “I genuinely cannot decide whether your self-awareness is admirable or deeply irritating.”
There was a deliberate choice to ignore him as Cedric continued.
“She has already endured enough uncertainty for several lifetimes,” he said quietly. “War. The Blight. Court politics. Ferelden nobility.” His mouth tightened faintly. “Me.”
Greylock straightened slightly at that. “Oh, now we’ve reached the dangerous part.”
Cedric frowned. “What dangerous part?”
“The part where you begin speaking as though Evaline’s affections are some unfortunate clerical error.”
Cedric looked away. Silence stretched for a moment too long. Then, far more softly than before, he admitted something aloud that took more courage than he was sure he had.
“There are things she does not know about me.”
Greylock’s expression shifted almost immediately. Less teasing now. More attentive.
“Cedric —”
“I know precisely what I am,” he interrupted quietly. “And I know what I once wanted.”
His hands tightened faintly around the edge of the worktable. Down in the courtyard below, servants continued arranging Magnus’s flowers beneath the morning sun, and he could not stop staring at them.
“I simply suspect,” he murmured, “that if Evaline knew the entirety of it… she might look at me differently.”
Greylock was quiet for a long moment after that.
“Well,” he began gently after a long moment. “That sounds remarkably like a problem destined to become worse the longer you avoid it.”
Cedric exhaled slowly through his nose. “Yes,” he admitted. “That is what concerns me.”
With things decidedly more serious than he was willing to deal with, Greylock sipped his tea in silence. He couldn't even bring himself to finish the cup entirely before he decided to make his exit. There wasn't even a parting shot as he closed the door behind him. That probably unnerved Cedric more than anything.
Rather than dwell on it Cedric did what any sensible man confronting emotional catastrophe would do. He buried himself in work with such alarming intensity that by midday even Baileywick had begun eyeing him with concern. Which, admittedly, should perhaps have been his biggest warning sign.
The castle itself seemed determined to remain impossibly alive around him no matter how thoroughly he attempted to disappear into his workshop. Servants hurried through corridors carrying linens and polished silver. Somewhere in the gardens below, musicians had apparently begun rehearsing for Magnus’s evening banquet. The faint sound of strings drifted intermittently through the tower windows in maddeningly cheerful bursts.
Cedric contemplated hexing the lute.
Instead, he reorganized potion ingredients with the sort of rigid concentration usually reserved for defusing magical explosives.
“Lavender,” he muttered, shoving another jar onto the shelf with perhaps slightly more force than necessary. “Chamomile. Dried elfroot. All ingredients for sleep tonics. How fitting.”
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts entirely, and Cedric straightened immediately.
“Come in.”
The workshop door opened just enough for Baileywick to step carefully inside, balancing a silver tray laden with fresh tea and several pastries.
“Ah. There you are.” Baileywick visibly relaxed upon spotting him. “The castle staff had begun taking wagers on whether you’d vanished through the eluvian, or something of the like.”
Cedric blinked once. “They what?”
Baileywick gave a soft snort. “You have not attended breakfast. Or luncheon.”
“I have been occupied.”
“With what?” Baileywick asked, surveying the workshop pointedly. “Because from here it appears you have re-alphabetized your herb jars three separate times.”
Cedric glanced instinctively toward the shelves.
“…The thyme was behaving suspiciously.”
Baileywick stared at him for one long suffering moment before setting the tray down atop the nearest clear surface. "Well, regardless of thyme-related emergencies, you are expected at dinner this evening," he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than stern.
Cedric immediately looked ill at the prospect of sitting down to dinner with Magnus and Morrigan both in attendance. And Evaline… The longer he sat on the heavy truth that had been weighing on him, the more unbearable it became to be around her.
Which was its own special kind of torture.
"Oh dear," Baileywick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What?" Cedric responded, pulled from his brief, internal lamentations.
The castle steward folded his hands neatly in front of himself. Just seeing the way Baileywick's posture adjusted made him want to wince.
"Cedric," he began. Something in the older man's tone finally pulled Cedric's attention fully away from the shelves. Baileywick regarded him carefully for a long moment before speaking again. "You do realize that Lady Evaline has spent nearly all morning asking after you, yes?"
"She has?" he asked before he could stop himself. Of course she had. He had seen the way she had been looking at him all day yesterday. It just made his stomach sink deeper.
"Repeatedly," Baileywick informed him. Another beat passed between them. Cedric opened his mouth to respond. Thought better of it, and closed it. He looked away at once, gaze falling instead toward the scattered parchment across his worktable.
"Oh, you poor, foolish boy," Baileywick sighed, his expression turning to something so painfully soft. Immediately, Cedric's lips drew into a deep frown.
"I am not a boy," he snapped.
"No," Baileywick agreed. "You are an egregiously anxious grown man, which is significantly more difficult."
Cedric opened his mouth, this time to protest this deeply unfair characterization, but stopped short. Footsteps drifted faintly from the corridor beyond. Someone was winding up the steps to his workshop. He stiffened instantly.
Baileywick, however, glanced toward the doorway and visibly relaxed. “Oh,” the steward murmured. “Much better.”
Cedric frowned. “What does that mean?”
Before Baileywick could answer, a familiar voice carried softly through the still-open doorway.
“Cedric?”
His stomach dropped straight through the floor. Evaline stepped into the workshop a heartbeat later, curls slightly windswept from climbing the tower stairs. She paused immediately upon spotting Baileywick still standing beside the worktable.
“Ah,” she said. “Am I interrupting something?”
"Not at all," Baileywick answered far too quickly. "In fact, I was just leaving." He continued smoothly, already moving toward the door. Though, he offered Cedric a look containing entirely too much sympathy for Cedric's liking before disappearing into the corridor without another word.
Silence settled briefly in his wake.
Evaline's gaze drifted slowly across the workshop. He watched as her eyes moved from the reorganized shelves, the scattered parchment, the stack of books teetering dangerously near the edge of the worktable… Then, finally, her gaze found him amidst it all, and her expression softened almost immediately.
"You look exhausted."
"I'm feeling rather fine, actually."
"There's ink smudged on your cheek," she said with a soft laugh, reaching into the pockets of her skirts to procure a handkerchief.
Reflexively, his hand lifted to his cheek, only smearing it further. Evaline's lips twitched as she tried to keep her smile from spreading too wide. Gently, she swiped away as much of the ink as she could.
"So, who is it you are trying to avoid today?" she asked, her tone light. "King Magnus? Greylock? Morrigan perhaps? Or… me?"
“…That feels like an unfairly comprehensive list.”
Evaline’s smile widened immediately. “Ah. So it is one of us.”
“It is not you,” he answered far too quickly.
The words slipped free on instinct alone. For one terrible heartbeat, Cedric wished desperately to snatch them back before she noticed. Unfortunately, Evaline noticed everything. Something softened in her expression almost immediately.
“Cedric,” she said more gently now.
He looked away at once, retreating toward the nearest shelf under the deeply flawed assumption that physically moving elsewhere in the workshop might somehow improve the situation. Much to his chagrin, it did not.
“I merely had work to do,” he muttered.
Evaline followed at an entirely unreasonable pace for someone not actively hunting him. “Your workshop does look like it’s overdue for an overhaul. Where are we starting, then?”
Before Cedric could formulate a suitable objection, Evaline had already crossed toward one of the nearest worktables. She surveyed the clutter for a moment before lifting a stack of loose parchment threatening to slide onto the floor.
“You have three separate piles labeled ‘important.’”
“They are different categories of important.”
“Of course they are.”
Cedric opened his mouth and stopped short, the words dying in his throat. To his horror, he could not think of a single reasonable argument that would convince her to leave. Not a single one. Evaline, meanwhile, appeared entirely untroubled by this development.
“Now,” she said, carefully straightening another stack of papers, “where are we starting?”
He looked around his workshop. The partially reorganized shelves, the overflowing cupboards, and the scattered books, everything desperately needing help. Then at Evaline herself, already rolling up her sleeves as though she had every intention of helping him sort through years of accumulated magical nonsense.
Merlin’s mushrooms.
She wasn’t going anywhere. A strange mixture of relief and dread settled heavily in his chest. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? Evaline had crossed worlds, survived Blights, faced demons, darkspawn, and court politics.
And still she kept choosing him. Still she kept looking for him. Still she climbed tower stairs and inserted herself directly into his catastrophes with infuriating determination.
She deserved honesty.
The realization settled uncomfortably somewhere beneath his ribs. Not today, perhaps, but soon. Very soon.
Cedric released a slow breath. Then, with all the resignation of a man surrendering to forces far beyond his control, he pointed toward the nearest bookshelf.
“Fine,” he muttered. “We are starting with the east wall.”
Evaline smiled. The sight of it did absolutely nothing to help his situation. She looked entirely too delighted by that answer.
