“You know.. in all the short time I've known you, I think you surprise me most when you're thinking,” she says suddenly.

Drinking! Barfights! Crazy lyrium-addicted warriors! It's a party in here. // One shot drabble trade for Ceylon, featuring her OC. Contains girls kissing.

Desire breeds madness, breeds obsession, breeds hatred. Cullen, Amell, and one man’s descent into chaos. fem!Amell/Cullen

He thinks about her in different ways, but cant allow himself to get past a few barriers that wont allow him to let her in. Sten/Cousland.

He knew from the first moment he saw her, that she was destined to rule the kingdom. And though future events would force them apart, their passionate affair of years passed would continue to color their world until the tragic end. *Cousland/Loghain*

A tiny little fic about my Mage and her templar Cullen.

Just an addition/change in the prologue for a human noblewomen and the romance option with Iona. Rated M for much the same reasons as the game but with more lemon.

Angsty/sad one-shot, serving as a prequel to a possible Fem!Cousland/Teagan fic. Takes place at the "celebration" end-game. Dedicated to Zachary S. Born in April 2009, and taken by God Dec 11 2009. Seems apropos.

One shot sequel to Victim of Choice. Thirty years after the defeat of the Archdemon, Alistair must make his own journey to the Deep Roads.

A commen elf is pulled into the nightmare of the blight. The question is can she let go of the past to face the darkspawn or will she fail again Rated M for adult themes

Neria Surana never wanted to be a grey warden, or in charge, or really even someone important. As a mage, she was raised to control her every emotion. Watch her mind as both these resolutions unravel. Rating mainly for mature themes

Six hundred years prior to King Cailin’s reign over Ferelden, another Blight challenged the land.

"This is ridiculous," mutters Alistair, sitting in between the quarrelling pair. "She's not property to be haggled over."

A post coronation story from Alistair's POV as he watches his love leave Denerim with Zevran at her side. Inspired by the song Magic by Ben Folds.

His hand is outstretched, his expression that same cheeky grin that has entranced her since Ostagar.

After a battle gone wrong, a wounded mabari has time to consider his equally wounded mistress and his newest, and oddest, pack.

Pre-game. His knees are already achey, but the Revered Mother will lynch him if he skips prayers again, and right now that threat is bigger than a pair of scuffed knees.

Grey Wardens give up their titles, their names, their pasts. That is how it is – you surrender your old life for this death sentence, and wait for execution day as a nameless entity. But sometimes the world just cannot quite let you go.

Nobles whisper in corners about that gaze of his – like steel that has seen too much war and bloodshed, they say.

Pre-game. Teagan Guerrein has to be the bearer of bad news to a little boy.

The shaft of light that shoots up from the top of the fort has everyone enthralled, but all he can think of is the sound that now resonates in their heads.

“Wait here a second,” she concludes, and scurries back to her tent. He is left standing in his tent doorway, covering his modesty with his own bloody tent.

And it was him, not her, who stood suddenly, wiping his face with the back of his hand and choking out an apology. He does not think he is strong enough, not for this.

When the Warden is injured in the heat of battle, Alistair has to wait out the longest night.

Zevran gives Alistair a little pep talk.