In his centuries of life, Atlas had met a great many interesting people. More often than not, they were his enemies. For example, there was Tiknatren, an Isili Warlord who'd successfully mounted an offensive against Aethys, nearly making it so far as Sahaquiel's Gate before he and Valera had successfully pushed away their forces.

His spymaster at the time had told him that, despite his ruthless ways (instead of bannermen, for example, Tiknatren's men carried frozen and preserved heads on pikes into battle), he was a vegetarian, and had given standing orders not to harm any wildlife during their crusade, on pain of death. It was one of the reasons they'd beaten them, actually; disrupting supply lines meant starving men and women going into battle where they hadn't been able to hunt for food.

Conversely, there'd been plenty of people on his own side who were intriguing, too. Back during the Iroizi Conflicts, when he and Valera had trained an assault squad, their long-range specialist had a habit of reading the raunchiest novels possible - practically porn - at every waking hour. Not to mention her infuriating tendency to show up late to everything but missions. Irksome woman, she was.

None of them had fascinated him in quite the way that Eden Trevelyan did, though. This in itself was not troublesome; no, it was the fact that he had no particular idea why.

There was hidden grace to her movements, he thought. As expected, perhaps, of the daughter of a noble, but he had seen her. Had spoken to her. Everything she said, and did, suggested that she had never wanted to be a noble's daughter. He guessed that she was probably the eldest child, which meant, if the gender standards were up to par in Thedas, she would be the inheritor of her House.

Now, obviously, the likelihood of that was very much up for questioning, but the Breach was a recent development. She'd spoken of it; she did not connect with that lifestyle. The ordinary noble girl didn't nag their parents into getting a swordplay teacher, didn't make it as old as she was without being pushed into position as head of her House without very stubbornly refusing to do so.

The nobility was in her blood, it was a part of her upbringing. She couldn't help her received pronunciation, nor her practiced posture, nor her ability to snap to eloquent vocabulary for politeness - not that she should try to 'help' any of those things. They were quite charming.

But there were very few people who moved the way she did. Who took to a sword the way she did. She was subversive where others would be direct, moving about and around instead of through something. She had a rather ordinary way of escaping notice, despite everything about her being extraordinary.

More than anything, she listened; he didn't even think she realised to just what extent she did. He knew she worried about being in a position of authority, probably because she didn't hold up the same standards of authority she'd witnessed; people like Commander Rutherford, probably like her father - they were decisive. Direct. Assertive. In many cases, it was because they had to be.

That was simply not her way, though. He saw it during the last Council meeting. She had hardly spoken up until the very end - that could've because of some... ahem. Bias towards him, but that aside, it was because she was listening. It was an incredibly underrated skill, and something he'd witnessed many rulers in centuries past fail to do.

She considered. She watched. She scrutinised. And when the time came, she made a decision. All of it unconscious. She... had no idea.

He made a small noise of realisation from his seat in his cabin. He glanced over to Slicer and Flint, who were both asleep; it was early morning, he guessed, so not overly surprising.

She had no idea. She had no idea how extraordinary she was. She didn't realise that she was a prodigy with a blade; didn't realise that she was better at observing people than some spies, that she was more intelligent than some kings. And so, as a consequence, she lacked confidence in her abilities - because no one had ever actually told her just how exceptional she was. But surely he wasn't the only one who noticed -

Or perhaps he was. The others in the Inquisition, they were drawn to her. The Council had looked to her for her decision after they'd discussed, as though hers was the one that mattered. Cassandra follows her gladly into battle, not even aware of her own veracity after Eden gave an order. Varric gravitated towards heroes - he'd written an entire book about one, after all. Maybe he realised it, because Atlas had seen the way Varric sometimes glanced towards Eden as she walked through Haven and began to write in that notebook of his.

Not to mention the fact that she'd convinced an entirely mismatched gang of others to join the Inquisition - a First Enchanter, a self-proclaimed champion of the common people, a Grey Warden. When she visited the tavern, she had the uncanny ability to drink with the soldiers as though she was one of them, and they loved her for it.

Her authority was quiet. It was so subtle, even she was hardly aware of it. But when brought to bear, it was incredibly powerful.

He smiled, but then his expression changed into one of surprise. Gods, he was thick. He resisted the urge to smack his forehead at that particular thought, because he didn't want to wake the twins. All that nonsense about having no idea why - he'd just outlined nearly every reason why.

He admired her. She captivated him; just as she'd drawn everyone else in the Inquisition, she'd drawn him to her. And - and for some unfathomable reason, she had returned some of that attention. She made him feel comfortable. She was intense and meaningful and she invited more out of people. Out of him.

That would change, of course, when she learned more about him. He wasn't worthy of such things, hadn't been for a very long time - and yet, some small part of him dared to hope. He was in conflict, because more than anything he wanted to hope, but he feared that, after so long, after everything else - after Valera, after Thalia... he feared he couldn't take much else.

He sighed. I've survived countless wars, legions of other nation's strongest warriors, creatures of ancient myth, and emerged victorious, he thought. Sahaquiel preserve, because this woman is going to be the death of me.

Eden was getting frustrated with how often her thoughts turned to a certain mysterious, blond-haired stranger. Really, it wasn't like she was fourteen anymore, crushing on the son of the Margrave at a ball, only to be forgotten about half a week later. Except it had been nearly two months and she was yet to simply forget about him.

She had acknowledged her attraction to him, to Seren at least. He really was extraordinarily well fit, and she didn't think it was out of line to say what she'd said. But if that was all it was, would she be thinking about him in her spare time? More than was reasonable?

No, I wouldn't, she thought, and she kicked her desk. Stupid hormones. Yes, of course, that was what it was, hormones, and nothing else at all.

...but would it really be so bad if it was something else?

When she thought about him, it wasn't his face that she thought about - well, it wasn't just his face, at least. It was the way he held her gaze, the way he'd consoled her, the way that, in the midst of an anxiety attack, he'd made her feel safe.

From the very beginning, there'd been a strange allure about him. He had... the only way to put it was that Atlas had a drama about him. Not in the way of hysterics or theatrics, but in that some undefinable something hangs around him. A cloud of emotion, maybe - he smiles and is gentle and warm and encouraging, but then he's alone and he's melancholy, weighted, joyful and sorrowful all at once; he becomes the kind of person that poems and songs are written about.

She's never met anyone quite like him - someone with quite so much depth. It's in the way he moves, the way he talks; he's quietly devastating in the manner of all beautiful things, and he has a way of looking at you that said he understood all that there was of you, and didn't judge.

He's full. Full of everything; of life and joy, sadness and sorrow, knowledge and curiosity. He was so subtle about it that she thought it might be easy to miss, because he didn't exactly advertise it. She didn't know of anyone that she thought might be capable of living life so completely. She envied it, in its own way.

There was tragedy there, she was sure. She'd only managed to tease out bits and pieces of his past, and not enough to form any kind of complete picture. She couldn't imagine, though, that anyone who was so good at talking without really talking or smiling without really smiling had had the easiest life. Not to mention someone who knew how to fight as well as he did.

But he hadn't given up. He had no reason to be with the Inquisition. The Council didn't trust him, but she didn't know how they didn't see what she saw. When Commander Cullen wasn't looking, he'd offer a tip to one of the recruits; she'd seen him helping out in the forge, working as though he was just another apprentice; when work needed to be done, sometimes he'd be carrying boxes around like he was just another of the common folk who had promised to help.

Occasionally she'd catch glimpses of him with his friend from Markham, Lethiel, and he always looked giddy as a schoolboy, talking in a rather animated way about this or that; she didn't know, because she couldn't hear. Those situations were the most released she'd seen him -

- because he was holding something back, she knew. She didn't know what, but though she could see, barely, just how much depth he contained, she could tell that he was trying not to let himself feel. Because it's a curse as much as it is a blessing, to feel everything so deeply. She gasped.

"I'm falling for a man I've barely known for two months." She sounded incredibly disheartened by this fact, and next to her the cat she'd affectionately named Muffin mewed in a way that somehow managed to be unsympathetic.

"Watch your tone, missy," she said to the cat, crossing her arms. Muffin meow'd again. "...I don't suppose you have any good relationship advice, do you?" The cat stared at her. Then it began licking itself. "Ew. I didn't think so." She sighed.

That was troublesome. Where they were right now, with a giant hole in the sky and demons throughout the land, was not exactly the most optimal time and place to be liking someone. Or... maybe it was the best place. Finding the bright spots, and all that. Of course, she had no idea if Atlas felt anything close to the same way, she was being presumptuous, and probably melodramatic. She'd called him 'quietly devastating' for Maker's sake. She groaned and put her face in her hands.

All of that on top of a plan to sneak into an impregnable castle and pull one over on a Tevinter Magister, in only a week's time. Life was very, very complicated.

LORE OF AETHYS

Aethys is the largest planet in a system of eight others. Each of the planets are connected by magical Gates, towering leviathan structures that allow instantaneous travel to a matching gate on another planet. Smaller portals also exist, but they are fewer and farther between, and once found, their locations are oft kept hidden. The creators of the portals and the magic therein is a mystery, but they have long withstood the test of time and attempts to discern the original architects have all been unsuccessful.

Five of the eight planets house civilizations and species within themselves; all are aware of the other. Two of the planets have land divvied up between some of the other kingdoms, with the last planet being considered no man's land; visitation is avoided if not outright forbiden. The names, normalised to Aethan Common, are as follows: Aethys, Elvui, Tirisia, Kkrath'n, Quirios, Faol, Morn Thorum, and Niradevalim, the restricted planet.

Aethys itself is a planet with many climates and cultures; while not all are combined under the Kingdom of Aethys and its government, the majority are. Due mostly to its sheer size, civil wars are not uncommon. Up until four-hundred years ago, the Kingdom was ruled by the Ancient Arkanii, those last remaining who still bear the immortal blood of the original inhabitants of the planet. However, rulership of the Kingdom was ceded to the mortal races under the agreement that the new King or Queen be chosen by vote of the people.

The planet is home to several variances in species which can be traced to particular regions of development. Arkanii specifically refers to those from the region of Thaen on the continent of Merellus; they are characterised by pointed ears and slightly longer lifespans than the other races, owing to the traces of Ancient blood still in their veins, which is more than any other on Aethys. The general term for an inhabitant of Aethys, species not withstanding, is an Aethan.

There is only one of the Ancient Arkanii left on Aethys, and the Ocean Sage resides on the mystical island of Eo, far in isolation from the rest of the world.

THE IROIZI CONFLICTS:

It was a surprising occasion when one of the Gates, mentioned above, which had hitherto been inactive, suddenly awoke and began spewing out an entirely unfamiliar, warlike race, who later called themselves the 'Iroizi'. By treaty, many of the governments within the Realms (the system of 8 worlds) put forth forces to answer this threat. Of those forces, none were more famous nor feared than the Emerald Contingent, a group of six specialists assembled, trained, and led by Atlas and Valera, Twin Conquerors of the Arkanii. Considering the legend of their founders, it is no surprise that they played a large part in the eventual defeat of the Iroizi and the end of the Conflicts.

The Emerald Contingent did not officially disband until more than a decade after the Conflicts ended. What they did during that time is unknown, though the rumors that sprung up spawned many novels and plays.

TIKNATREN'S INVASION:

Tiknatren was a Warlord of the Isili, a four-armed insectoid race, who, for reasons unknown, gathered enough forces to pose a serious threat to the nations of the Realm. They waged war chiefly against the Aethan Kingdom, likely because they were viewed as the largest threat to their conquest. As a Warlord, Tiknatren did not discriminate in who he allowed into his armies; as such, allegiance to any one government or planet was impossible to claim, though the Isili did receive much resentment after the war's end.

Due to the surprise nature of the invasion, the Warlord and his armies gained much headway on the planet of Morn Thorum, nearly making it to the Great Gate of Sahaquiel, which would have allowed them access to the Aethan homeland, before being pushed back. Firsthand reports from veterans of the war seem to indicate that the military of Aethys was in fact losing before Atlas took command of the military, reassuming his position of Lord Commander, and eventually defeated Tiknatren personally on the field.

Rumors abounded that Tiknatren did not invade of his own volition, but was instead manipulated by another organization or individual, who orchestrated the invasion for reasons unknown. These rumors have largely been dismissed as false.

AN: woo. another update, though much shorter. this is just some character-building, and also world building. i'm thinking of doing little explanations like the above for some world building on Aethys. it's impossible for Atlas to tell all of it because he's biased against himself, among other things, and there's no one for him to tell those things to, at present.

i have a lot of lore for the world of Aethys and the Realms as a whole that i haven't known how to share, so i suppose this is a good way of doing it. the only thing i haven't done for Aethys is come up with a calendar; though i have a basic idea of a timeline, i have no way to refer to specific years and stuff.

leave reviews if you like stuff, or if you have critiques 'n shizzle. if you wish to speculate on anyone's past, or ask questions about aethys, you can leave them in a review or pm me! i'd be happy to talk about it

~ylri