#theherowarden

Right, so the only AUs I’ve yet to reveal (besides the new ones I haven’t outlined yet) are honestly sad/dark AUs. Since the existence of this one is your fault to begin with, I’m going to leave you with an AU scene, where Niamh is turned Tranquil just as the events of What Pride Had Wrought come to a close. >:) Essentially, the Red Templars found a method to perform the Rite of Tranquility almost instantaneously over the course of several months, leading to numerous reports of Tranquil mages being found across Thedas. Niamh was well-aware of all of this before she took her team into the Arbor Wilds, but as the trek through the forest was so arduous, she was running on little energy by the time she defeated Samson. The Red Templars managed to separate her away from the group, and well... She was made Tranquil. Niamh’s team made their way through the Eluvian in the hopes Corypheus wouldn’t discover what had happened to her, and this scene takes place some time after that.

Cassandra watched as Leliana paced soundlessly across the Inquisitor’s personal quarters, her face set into an impassive mask—the same one she had seen her wear for years during their respective duties as the Hands of the Divine.

…at least until her reunion with Lady Cousland, and it was like watching the other woman slowly come to life again as they fell in love.

Still, even the grim resolve she saw here was better than the absolute devastation she had seen on Leliana’s face when she saw Lady Cousland’s condition for the first time upon returning from the Arbor Wilds. The Spymaster had nearly ridden her mount ragged in her haste, especially when Cassandra had sent a message out to her, stating that something had gone wrong in their mission and the Inquisitor’s position had been compromised.

It had been a severe understatement, of course, and Cassandra couldn’t help but grimace as she saw the radiating, curved lines of the Chantry Sunburst branded—albeit haphazardly so if the imperfect embossment was any indication—across the woman’s forehead.

As had been her norm upon their return, Lady Cousland continued to sit eerily at the foot of the bed, staring into the nothingness beyond the balconies. She never spoke unless prompted, and even when she did, there was a dullness to her voice—a sunken stone buried in depths long forgotten—that was a far cry from the woman’s usual quiet warmth and benevolence.

She was little more than a sentinel as she sat there—back rigid and shoulders set—as if waiting for instruction. Waiting to be commanded.

…Waiting to serve.

Cassandra had to swallow the bile that had gathered at the back of her throat.

“Besides abject failure, this was the only thing in all the world that absolutely terrified her,” Leliana said apathetically, hands behind her back as she continued pacing before the fireplace. “That, or the idea that we might succeed, and the Chantry would’ve seen reason to chain her and take away her magic in the most abusive way possible, ensuring that it would never again have a rival to its power.” Blue eyes seemed to burn with more than just the firelit reflection within them. “What does that say about us, I wonder? What does it say that she helped us and agreed to be Inquisitor even with the thought that she’d still have every last shred of her autonomy taken away?”

While the question was an uncomfortable one, Cassandra could only be thankful it was far better than the reaction Morrigan had received, especially when Leliana had discovered the woman had abandoned Lady Cousland in order to chase after the ancient elf responsible for guarding the Well of Sorrows…

---

Leliana’s eyes had been a steely blue as they gleamed beneath the moonlight—a glimmer of a knife’s edge and with all the danger that it implied—as she pulled the mage forward by the lapels of her outfit almost to the point of choking her.

“The only reason my blades haven’t sunk into your neck or that I haven’t thrown you from this very tower is because you told me the knowledge you obtained from the Well of Sorrows might prove useful in overturning what has been done to Niamh,” she said coolly, never raising her voice. “I do not want your apologies or your meager reassurances. I want progress. You and I have nothing to say to one another until then. Am I understood?”

Morrigan’s eyes had narrowed, but even Cassandra could see the guilt that had settled there—a common sight these days—as she was reminded of her own part in Lady Cousland’s current state. As such, the woman could only nod, allowing Leliana to slowly release the strangling grip on her clothing, which Morrigan resettled idly before making her way toward the stairs.

“And Morrigan?”

The mage looked over her shoulder to see Leliana there, standing tall with her hands behind her back—a cold ruthlessness exuding from every pore of her body. Although they weren’t directed at her, Cassandra felt the chill of reproach and threat in that icy glare.

“You may have evaded Flemeth over the years, but make no mistake: if I find you’ve given anything other than your absolute best in helping Niamh—if I find that you’ve abandoned her again—there will be nowhere on Thedas where you can hope to hide from me…”

---

Cassandra sighed. “It was not the Chantry that did this to her, Leliana.”

“But they never argued against the Rite’s use in all its existence, have they? What is the purpose of it if not to chain mages to them with fear?”

“It was originally a preventative measure against the outright execution of mages.”

“Mages they thought might be useful to them alive as pets and mindless servants than dead, Cassandra!” Leliana retorted, whirling on her with fury as the flames from the fireplace outlining her form. “The last Inquisitor warned it could have abused, and nothing was done to prevent it! A thousand years later, and the Chantry is no better than when it first started! Niamh had every reason not to trust in it!”

“Leliana—"

“Do you not see what this world has done to her?! It rejected her, and it denied her very existence as a person! She has been abandoned at every turn the moment her magic manifested! She had very nearly given up by the time she came to The Conclave because she was so desperate to see if it could change one last time for the better, and she ended up bound to the Chantry again as part of the Inquisition instead! Despite everything, despite how much she was hurting, she still sought to try and help us, and this is what she received for her goodwill!”

“Leliana, what more do you want me to say?” Cassandra implored desperately. “I know now how deeply the corruption ran. I know why Lord Seeker Lucius abandoned his duties and why he gave the tome to me. I swear, we are doing everything we can to reverse this, and if it works, I promise I will spread knowledge of the cure all across Thedas, but…” She hesitated. “From what I’ve read, she might not be as she was before.”

Silence.

“You’re telling me that even if this does succeed, I may only have a part of her back?”

“Yes. We have asked her, but her answers remain tied to our desires. She will agree to it if we feel that it is necessary, but she…” Cassandra paused, choosing her words carefully even as she averted her gaze. “Lady Cousland no longer has the will to fully agree to this. Given your relationship with her, I felt you might know her wants better than us. As the reversal has been documented so very few times, it’s possible we can negate some of the more concerning side effects, especially with so many mages here openly helping us, but—”

“Then proceed,” Leliana said without hesitation. “Because I’m not letting her go again.”

FREN???? MEE??? WONDERFUL???.ks;ldaahsjzdjoiskzbhpdkf;nlaidkjfbhlka;fjsbahdj;oalzd

(I won't lie, got really excited when I saw your ask >~<)

So for those who have played through the Cousland background in DAO likely know that your character is nicknamed “Pup” by your father Teyrn Bryce Cousland.

In chapter 8 of OtSttCA, I revealed that Niamh’s brother Fergus nicknamed her Highever’s Storm Wolf in an internal monologue as an homage of sorts to their late mother. However, the nickname is actually an updated version of the one her family gave her at birth due to the unique circumstances surrounding it, and it will be touched upon in a later chapter of the story.

The following is a bit of dialogue from Niamh’s Aunt Eithne (my own creation since we were never given the names or gender of Eleanor’s siblings):

“By tradition, my family often gives titles to those deserving of them either by deed or by momentous occasion. My younger sister—Maker, bless her soul— was renowned as the Sea Wolf for her ferocity upon the waves along with her raiding prowess.”

Even in Leliana’s youth, stories of the famed Sea Wolf had still been told from time to time. Eleanor Mac Eanraig was respected in Orlais—if not feared—as a brilliant strategist out on the Waking Sea, for she had cowed more than a few captains and admirals of note at the time. The woman sank Orlesian ships nearly as fast as they could be replaced out on the water, and no matter what routes her enemies used to try and bypass her fleet of ships, she was there to meet them head-on.

Idly, she began to wonder if that was where Niamh received her penchant for tactics from. Saoirse had been more than capable as a leader, but even her mind for stratagems failed in comparison to the almost negligent ease in which Niamh could often outmaneuver her opponents. Leliana came out of her thoughts slowly as the woman before her continued speaking.

“With Niamh… Well.” Eithne chuckled a bit. “Her birth certainly counted as rather memorable. We teasingly titled her the Storm Pup because Eleanor delivered her beneath a dreadful squall. Worst one we’d seen in years then, truly. The rain came down in near solid sheets, and the skies were roaring an utter symphony of madness...” Weathered features warmed then. “But when my wee little niece breathed her first breath? The weather outside just seemed to slowly calm itself, as if heralding the birth of the one who would later become the absolute epitome of them.

“To our surprise, our title proved exceedingly accurate for her as she grew. She never feared storms of any kind, you see,” she revealed to Leliana, smiling all the while. “No, her eyes would grow wide with each dance of lightning she saw outside the window, and she’d clap her little hands with delight at the droning thunder calling to her beyond the mountains. While my nephew and nieces didn’t grow up on warships as my siblings and I did, we still wanted them to always know of their heritage, to know that the sea was their home as much as the land. With Niamh’s temperament, I knew she would take to a ship like a fish to water, and I couldn’t wait to have her aboard.”

Those familiar grey eyes soon lost some of the vibrancy, and the smile that had been playing on the woman’s lips for several minutes gradually fell away. Understandable, given that Leliana knew what happened next.

((Have something from my Werewolf/Vampire AU then! ;) This scene takes place following an assassination attempt on Leliana’s life. I also incorporated the other prompt you sent, which was “ Why the hell are you bleeding!?” I had to fix the sentence structure around to make it flow more seamlessly though. Enjoy!))

Leliana had been sitting in silent, careful vigil of her lover for several days now. The other woman had yet to return to consciousness, and that only allowed the guilt to eat away at the vampire, especially when she could clearly see the results of that event.

The dark curls of Niamh’s hair hung limply about her head, utterly lackluster in their once brilliant sheen, and darkness sat beneath the grooves of her eyes, emphasized by the sallow pallor of her skin. The other woman was already naturally pale-skinned, but this…?

Leliana’s hands clenched themselves until she could feel the bite of her fingernails against her palms.

Niamh looked like she was already death-touched.

It didn’t help that the werewolf’s breathing was also incredibly labored. Her chest—half-covered with medical gauze and bandages which stretched up to her left shoulder—rose and fell in shaky intervals. There was one terrifying incident where the lull between them had lasted for so long that Leliana had feared she’d just heard her lover’s last breath. She had vowed then not to leave her bedside despite Josie’s attempts to make her do otherwise. She knew her friend meant well, but…

If Niamh was beyond their help…

If her lover was beyond her reach…

Then Leliana would not leave her alone in her final moments.

She sighed soundlessly then, resting her elbows atop the bed as she buried her head in her hands. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

---

“How can she still be bleeding? She normally heals so quickly from her injuries,” Josie stated fearfully as Leliana pressed her hands against the gaping wound over Niamh’s chest—a result of the seemingly chemical rounds that had been fired into it.

If Leliana’s own heart hadn’t ceased drawing a beat centuries ago, she swore it would have stopped then at the sound of that sharp, needling cry of pain as the werewolf hit the ground following the death of the last assassin. What followed after that appeared to be an agonizing transformation as Niamh reverted back to her human form, pitch-black fur receding as bones shortened and reformed with deafening cracks and pops.

“It’s wolfsbane, my dear,” Vivienne explained grimly, confirming the substance that had coated the bullets used against werewolf as she and Morrigan used their own magic to keep her lover’s condition stable until Niamh’s sister could arrive with the aid and expertise needed to properly heal her. While Vivienne was remarkably skilled, she had reluctantly admitted that enough of Niamh’s physiology differed enough from their own that she couldn’t risk further using her abilities on her when the consequences of doing so were so unknown. “Werewolves are so very reclusive about their own world to begin with, but I can only surmise her body is trying to overcompensate itself in defense to the drug in her system.” Her brows furrowed. “It would certainly explain the heat radiating off her. She was already exceptionally warm before, but now…”

Niamh’s blood was practically molten hot beneath Leliana’s hands.

She continued to try and stem the flow, but she could feel her lover’s heart pumping sluggishly. The ebb and flow of it was all she could hear as she focused on the sound, allowing all others to simply fade away, for she feared the moment the pulse would fall silent.

---

“Leliana?”

She came out of her thoughts quickly at the sound of her lover’s voice, and she drew her gaze to the head of the bed to see that Niamh was finally awake albeit still rather exhausted. Leliana could see the haze of fever within those mist-grey eyes, but she couldn’t help the relief that flooded her immediately.

“There you are. How do you feel?” she asked quietly, pressing a cool hand against Niamh’s forehead. Her worry returned upon feeling the heat radiating from it—still far warmer than the werewolf’s usual state of being.

“You have no idea how good that feels,” Niamh murmured with a content sigh, eyes falling closed briefly. “Are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that. You’ve suffered more than anyone else here, Niamh. Josie’s been beside herself for days. I don’t think she expected you to throw yourself in harm’s way for her. She feels she owes you a debt she can never repay.”

“I wouldn’t accept it in any case. Josephine’s a sweet woman and your friend. It would have hurt you if you’d lost her.”

Leliana frowned. “No more than you.”

“Is that true?”

“What?”

A dark head shifted slowly against the pillows as pale eyes opened to regard her tiredly. “I remember your conversation on the phone the other day—the one that claimed that you were above any… distractions in regards to your role within the Imperial Court.”

Leliana closed her eyes in shame, biting her lip, recalling the moment where she had caught Niamh walking into her office too late.

The other woman hadn’t said anything, but she had seen the quiet heartbreak in those eyes before that gaze simply closed itself off to her—a vault door slamming shut. The werewolf had then silently handed her the glass of honeyed wine that she had gone to refill on her behalf before turning on her heel to leave despite Leliana’s profuse attempts to apologize.

Niamh had merely disappeared out the door in a rush of magic.

“I was out in the forest with more than enough time to think upon everything,” Niamh said, bringing her out of her thoughts. “While I was hurt, I found that I couldn’t fault your words. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose…” A faint smile lingered lonely on her lips. “I suppose I’m infinitesimal at best, aren’t I? I’ve only lived a fraction of the time you have after all. I can’t in good conscience ask you to give up a life—a world—you’ve known for nearly a thousand years for me. As such,” she continued softly, “if it will be easier for you, I can leave with my sister once I recover. I won’t intrude upon your life again.”

For a time, only silence lingered in the air between them as Leliana looked to her lover—former now?—in disbelief while the other woman only held quiet resignation in her gaze. Then, those silver eyes blinked, slowly widening with apparent surprise, but before she could press a question in concern—wondering if perhaps Niamh was in more physical pain—she felt warm fingertips brushing against her cheek.

Leliana looked down to see Niamh’s fingers there. Red coated the pads of them. As she reached up to touch her own face, she felt them come away wet. She hadn’t even realized she was crying; she couldn’t even remember the last time she had. Still, she was certain she must have looked a sight with the vivid crimson of her tears pouring from her eyes in stunning trails. The color of them was already beginning to dot the silk sheets upon the bed.

“Are…” Dark brows furrowed as Niamh spoke up hesitantly. “Are those tears for me?”

“Yes.” As if there was any doubt. “I don’t want you to go.”

“But—”

“No, Niamh,” she insisted, pressing the other woman’s hand between her own. “I’m a fool if I made you believe for even a moment that I didn’t love you and for attempting to deny that I ever did.”

Because the thought of Niamh not being here with her—of not lighting up a home that had sat so long in silence and neglect without the gentle musical tones of sheer love and affection echoing throughout it—was something Leliana couldn’t abide.

“Leliana, do you realize what you’re risking if we pursue this any further?”

“And I’m prepared to pay that price. For a moment, I felt the agony of what it meant to be without you, and I will not have that mistake repeated.”

“Your position—”

“I don’t need it,” Leliana swore. “I don’t want any of it if it means that I can’t be with you.”

“Then I’ll say this one time: tell me to go, and I will, but if you ask me to stay… I’ll never leave you again.”

Leliana locked eyes with Niamh as the werewolf’s own flashed weakly to a bright gold, instilling some solemnity in the moment between them—the one that would change everything within their lives forever. Leliana didn’t break her gaze as she pressed her lips to her lover’s knuckles, breathing her own promise across them.

8) favorite genre to write

Romance, especially of the slow burn variety. :P I enjoy the idea of two people just slowly falling in love, finding all the right ways they fit together, of how they’re able to work through things even on those occasions when they might disagree because they’re that invested in one another. I love when they both realize they’ve become so intertwined with each other that they can’t even consider letting the other person go.

Whether it’s mental or verbal, it’s that italicized “oh” moment that gets me each and every time. Lol.

13) your strengths as an author

Does having a very active imagination count because I think that might be the most valid one for me. Lol.

In all seriousness, I would probably say my attention to detail. I greatly enjoy character-building, and for Niamh, it’s completely necessary because I’m not just finding ways in which she interacts with the world, I’m also writing about how it reacts to her. See, Inquisition is full of canon characters that people either love or hate, but there’s already a sense of familiarity built in with them from player experience. In a sense, there’s already an innate trust there from readers of how those particular characters see the world, so how they slowly get to know a character like Niamh is likely how the audience would come to eventually see her as well.

It’s why I don’t necessarily bother to write every chapter strictly from her point of view. It’s one thing to write Niamh completely losing herself to her power or those creeping self-doubts, but it’s another thing entirely to have another character witness it and see just how fragile those calm facade of hers can be. I find that it’s more impactful that way.

Other than that, I think I’m great with tinkering with things just outside the box when it comes to canon material. Niamh’s already a bit of an oddball because she’s a mage Cousland who was never The Warden but was still later made the Herald/Inquisitor. She has that experience as a veteran of the Fifth Blight, and she even has old connections as a Cousland and to people like Leliana or King Alistair, but it still starts on this journey of having to find herself as a leader, much like with a default Inquisitor.

For me, it’s this constant puzzle game of, “Can I have it make sense without completely breaking everything in canon just to make it work?” The journey in continually solving that question is probably my greatest enjoyment in writing OtSttCA.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.? 

I honestly just have the most chaotic way of outlining. Everything I have for OtSttCA starts on a giant Word document, which I’m continually adding scenes to in no particular order. It could be something I foresee happening in the following chapter, or it might be an event that won’t even take place until the last quarter of the story. I go wherever my creativity just happens to take me to that day. Lol.

When I think of putting together the latest chapter, I’m still writing from that huge outline, but I’m basically just picking and choosing what scenes I feel fit best in terms of pacing and just go from there with properly developing them. That sometimes leads to situations where I find I need to add a scene or two in between in order to help deal with potential timeline issues.

1.) How does your OC get the comfiest? Do they wrap themselves in a blanket? Do they build a pillow nest? Do they make a nice cup of cocoa or tea?

Niamh unfortunately doesn’t always allow herself a lot of time for relaxation whenever she’s at Skyhold. When she’s not on missions, she normally spends her downtime planning for the next one or making sure those around the keep have what they need in order to be comfortable since their location is so out of the way.

She honestly focuses so much of her attention on others before herself.

However, an ideal day of comfort for Niamh would just be sitting in front of the fireplace in her personal quarters and reading.

She’d move the couch that’s usually by the stairs and move it in front of the fire, and she’d pile enough pillows and furred pelts (I headcanon that she has the Frostback Basin bed) against an armest and along the cushions so that she’d have an ideal reclining spot. Niamh’s also a huge fan of tea, so she’d probably have a mug sitting along the floor that she can reach down and take a sip from whenever she likes.

Of course, whenever she gets too engrossed in her reading, it’s not uncommon for her beverage of choice to grow cold on occasion. Thankfully, a little bit of magic solves that problem pretty quickly. Lol.

If all that occurs while there’s a storm brewing outside, then that’s really just icing on the cake for her! Hearing the rain against the balcony doors and the intermittent rolling thunder while a fire roars in the hearth before her? Those elements speak to such an innate part of her, so it’s the perfect way to get her to relax.

7.) Is your OC called any pet names? If not, if they *did* have one, what would it be? Do they have any pet names for someone else?

Well... Leliana does affectionately call her Brat from time to time? Lol! To be fair, Niamh usually deserves it. :P

Other than that, I do headcanon that Leliana eventually transitions to calling her Gamin, which is just a French variant of the word “brat.” Other than that, there’s the traditional Mon Amour (my love) and Ma Belle (my beauty), but a more specific one for Niamh would be Mon Ciel Étoilée (my starry sky).

Granted, you probably won’t see those pet names until after Leliana realizes she’s in love with Niamh. :P