Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at Fen'Harel and the Tree - Clariana13 - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own].
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen, Multi, Other, F/F
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Relationship: Andruil/Ghilan'nain, Fen'Harel/Andruil/Ghilan'nain
Character: Andruil, Ghilan'nain, Mythal, Anaris (Dragon Age: Inquisition), Solas/Fen'Harel
Additional Tags: Elvhen Pantheon, glitterotica
Stats: Published: 2015-03-13 Completed: 2015-03-26 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 7205 Fen'Harel and the Tree
by Clariana13
Summary
A re-telling of the fable recounted by Felassan in Patrick Weeke's Masked Empire and mentioned in a codex in DA:I.
The events take place in Arlathan, the capital of Elvhenan and as a precursor to the tensions existing between the members of the Elvhen pantheon leading eventually to their downfall...
"One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning."
From the codex in DA:I
Delivered from the blast
The last of a line of lasts
The pale princess of a palace cracked
And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace
The Smashing Pumpkins, the End is the Beginning is the End
He heard the shouting and screaming before any of the servants were fleet enough to advise him. His first thought was how had his wards been breached, he was a very fastidious and talented ward keeper, but of course, there were always those whom no ward could detain.
His partner whimpered as he withdrew, but, for now he had other priorities. He seized one of the sheets they had loosened in their lovemaking and wrapping it around him flinging a corner across his shoulder left the chamber barefoot at speed.
As he walked down the staircase to the lower floor his ears picked up minor details, mumbles… Moans. Not good. A scattering of servants stood nervously in the study. He gestured for them to keep back and placed his finger on his lips as he walked past.
But he needn’t have relied on his acute hearing as he approached the atrium he saw figure convulsing on the serpent stone and aurum mosaics.
As he drew closer, it gasped and with immense effort lurched itself up and fell upon its back. There was blood everywhere. He looked down at the face of Timon one of his most faithful and enduring servants, his eyes were rolling back in his head and his mouth was wide gasping for breath and attempting to form words. One of his hand was clasped tightly to the deep wound to his stomach.
He held up his hand in a pacifying motion. “Spare yourself the effort, old friend, I know who it is and what she wants…” He whispered.
She stood in his courtyard as he had last seen her covered in gore and blood, from toe to crown. She had one of the younger servants, Nenhera, pinned to the wall by her neck, and was shrieking and gurning, her lower jaw almost seemed to have been dislocated from her face. She held a naked blade in her left hand, a short, ugly thing, probably a skinning knife, but with a point as fine as a needle, and was making jabbing motions towards the young elf’s breasts. Nenhera, his poor, sweet Nenhera, the most recent addition to his household and a single mother, was babbling pitifully like a sparrow caught in a glue trap.
He noted she wore her battle armour formed of a multitude of glittering gems laced together with cords of fade-touched silverite and dragon bone moulded into a bodice and then falling around her thighs in a fine mesh of chain. What gems were not covered in filth glinted slyly, a thousand facets of magic. The aura emanating from the enchantments cast upon the armour alone was sufficient to weaken anything within a visible distance from it, including himself. And then there was the squirming body of the young deity it encased. And the magic bow and quiver strapped to her back.
“Andruil…” He said, attempting to disguise the distaste he always felt in her presence and carefully keeping his voice barely above a murmur. “Release her.”
“Fen!” And suddenly her voice was full of shrill, girlish delight as she turned on her toes towards him. Almost inadvertently she released Nenhera who tumbled to the floor with a gurgle clutching her throat but still had the sense to begin to crawl towards the vestibule.
Behind Andruil he glimpsed several indistinct mounds and bloody masses. He hoped the children were unharmed.
He had forgotten how small she was, under the gore her face seemed thinner than before, her cheekbones more prominent, her mouth appeared to have sunk, her dark eyes were certainly larger and more excited but her bare unarmoured right arm seemed almost emaciated, just tight, honed muscle and bone under skin, no flesh whatsoever.
Her curly dark hair was piled upon her head in a bizarre fashion that lately has become all the rage, forming a sort of ship’s prow crest over her brow, leaving the sides of her skull bare. Personally he thought it was ugly and barbaric, but no one cared what he thought.
“My lady,” he placed his right hand on his chest, his lips formed a smile, and he gave her a slight deferential bow.
“Fen…” She smirked up at him, ran her tongue along the corner of her mouth and at the same time lifted her skirt from under her armour to wipe the knife on it. “Ugh! This mess, it gets everywhere…”
“I trust your latest trip went well?”
She bent down to slide the knife into her ankle scabbard. His eyes drifted down to her waist, where he caught a brief glimpse of a patch of ashen flesh. “It was crazy Fen, crazy wild. About eight weeks this time… I found one of them you know, filthy, ugly bastard. In the end he was cowering in a cavern like a slug under a stone, weeping... Pah!” She stood up and spat on the floor. “I took his head, and his balls and…”
He flinched, and then froze realising his mistake.
Andruil guffawed “I love the expression on guys’ faces when I say things like that… You are all just so sensitive aren’t you? Even the dread wolf…” She reached up with her left hand and entwined it in the auburn locks that fell just below his shoulder, toying with them. Such a tiny hand, he thought looking at it as it twirled in his hair, such a tiny delicate, dirty little hand, all its frail bones lying next to each other in perfect harmony.
“I haven’t been that for a long time…” He said hoarsely.
She grabbed his hair and jerked his head to one side, he felt his neck crack.
“And more is the pity.” She pulled his head down towards her face “Where is she, Fen…” She hissed. Her breath against his ear had the dark stench of offal with a slight vinegary tang. “Tell me where she is, where’s my little lost halla?”
“Let me go Andruil and I might be able to help you.” He made no motion to free himself, it would be pointless in any event.
She got an even firmer grip in his hair and shook him “You reek of cum Fen, did you know that?”
The teeth rattled in his head. “If you had cared to announce your visit I might have had a chance to bathe…”
“Always with the words Fen, so clever, aren’t you?” She sneered, “Would you be so clever with your tongue if you were hurting, I wonder?”
“I doubt it.”
“I, too, doubt it…” But at least she let him go.
He righted himself fussed a little about the sheet, extracted some of the sticky clots she had left in his hair, “You were saying…”
“You heard me the first time, I am looking for Ghilly…”
“Why here?”
“Why not here?”
“It is always a pleasure to see you Andruil but we’re not friends and I find it very strange that you would…”
A calm voice coming from behind interrupted him “Andruil...” She stood like a burnished flame her long white hair falling to just above her slender waist, meek eyes wide, lips and breasts still bruised by his kisses. And naked.
There was a very long silence.
Fen broke it. “Well there you are…”
He smiled turning to Andruil who was standing, still stunned, a petite anaemic princess, a lost toddler who had taken a tumble and got covered in mud. He took a few steps towards her and grasped her hand and as if she were the child he had just envisioned her to be, marched her to where Ghilly stood, “Hand.” Equally mesmerised Ghilly extended her right hand, he joined them, tanned skin to sallow. “So you found her, dah’len. Well done. You two make a perfect couple.”
Took a step back. Exhaled.
Waited for the storm to break.
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen, Multi, Other, F/F
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Relationship: Andruil/Ghilan'nain, Fen'Harel/Andruil/Ghilan'nain
Character: Andruil, Ghilan'nain, Mythal, Anaris (Dragon Age: Inquisition), Solas/Fen'Harel
Additional Tags: Elvhen Pantheon, glitterotica
Stats: Published: 2015-03-13 Completed: 2015-03-26 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 7205 Fen'Harel and the Tree
by Clariana13
Summary
A re-telling of the fable recounted by Felassan in Patrick Weeke's Masked Empire and mentioned in a codex in DA:I.
The events take place in Arlathan, the capital of Elvhenan and as a precursor to the tensions existing between the members of the Elvhen pantheon leading eventually to their downfall...
"One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning."
From the codex in DA:I
Chapter 1
Fen'Harel and the Tree
Fen'Harel and the Tree
Delivered from the blast
The last of a line of lasts
The pale princess of a palace cracked
And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace
The Smashing Pumpkins, the End is the Beginning is the End
He heard the shouting and screaming before any of the servants were fleet enough to advise him. His first thought was how had his wards been breached, he was a very fastidious and talented ward keeper, but of course, there were always those whom no ward could detain.
His partner whimpered as he withdrew, but, for now he had other priorities. He seized one of the sheets they had loosened in their lovemaking and wrapping it around him flinging a corner across his shoulder left the chamber barefoot at speed.
As he walked down the staircase to the lower floor his ears picked up minor details, mumbles… Moans. Not good. A scattering of servants stood nervously in the study. He gestured for them to keep back and placed his finger on his lips as he walked past.
But he needn’t have relied on his acute hearing as he approached the atrium he saw figure convulsing on the serpent stone and aurum mosaics.
As he drew closer, it gasped and with immense effort lurched itself up and fell upon its back. There was blood everywhere. He looked down at the face of Timon one of his most faithful and enduring servants, his eyes were rolling back in his head and his mouth was wide gasping for breath and attempting to form words. One of his hand was clasped tightly to the deep wound to his stomach.
He held up his hand in a pacifying motion. “Spare yourself the effort, old friend, I know who it is and what she wants…” He whispered.
She stood in his courtyard as he had last seen her covered in gore and blood, from toe to crown. She had one of the younger servants, Nenhera, pinned to the wall by her neck, and was shrieking and gurning, her lower jaw almost seemed to have been dislocated from her face. She held a naked blade in her left hand, a short, ugly thing, probably a skinning knife, but with a point as fine as a needle, and was making jabbing motions towards the young elf’s breasts. Nenhera, his poor, sweet Nenhera, the most recent addition to his household and a single mother, was babbling pitifully like a sparrow caught in a glue trap.
He noted she wore her battle armour formed of a multitude of glittering gems laced together with cords of fade-touched silverite and dragon bone moulded into a bodice and then falling around her thighs in a fine mesh of chain. What gems were not covered in filth glinted slyly, a thousand facets of magic. The aura emanating from the enchantments cast upon the armour alone was sufficient to weaken anything within a visible distance from it, including himself. And then there was the squirming body of the young deity it encased. And the magic bow and quiver strapped to her back.
“Andruil…” He said, attempting to disguise the distaste he always felt in her presence and carefully keeping his voice barely above a murmur. “Release her.”
“Fen!” And suddenly her voice was full of shrill, girlish delight as she turned on her toes towards him. Almost inadvertently she released Nenhera who tumbled to the floor with a gurgle clutching her throat but still had the sense to begin to crawl towards the vestibule.
Behind Andruil he glimpsed several indistinct mounds and bloody masses. He hoped the children were unharmed.
He had forgotten how small she was, under the gore her face seemed thinner than before, her cheekbones more prominent, her mouth appeared to have sunk, her dark eyes were certainly larger and more excited but her bare unarmoured right arm seemed almost emaciated, just tight, honed muscle and bone under skin, no flesh whatsoever.
Her curly dark hair was piled upon her head in a bizarre fashion that lately has become all the rage, forming a sort of ship’s prow crest over her brow, leaving the sides of her skull bare. Personally he thought it was ugly and barbaric, but no one cared what he thought.
“My lady,” he placed his right hand on his chest, his lips formed a smile, and he gave her a slight deferential bow.
“Fen…” She smirked up at him, ran her tongue along the corner of her mouth and at the same time lifted her skirt from under her armour to wipe the knife on it. “Ugh! This mess, it gets everywhere…”
“I trust your latest trip went well?”
She bent down to slide the knife into her ankle scabbard. His eyes drifted down to her waist, where he caught a brief glimpse of a patch of ashen flesh. “It was crazy Fen, crazy wild. About eight weeks this time… I found one of them you know, filthy, ugly bastard. In the end he was cowering in a cavern like a slug under a stone, weeping... Pah!” She stood up and spat on the floor. “I took his head, and his balls and…”
He flinched, and then froze realising his mistake.
Andruil guffawed “I love the expression on guys’ faces when I say things like that… You are all just so sensitive aren’t you? Even the dread wolf…” She reached up with her left hand and entwined it in the auburn locks that fell just below his shoulder, toying with them. Such a tiny hand, he thought looking at it as it twirled in his hair, such a tiny delicate, dirty little hand, all its frail bones lying next to each other in perfect harmony.
“I haven’t been that for a long time…” He said hoarsely.
She grabbed his hair and jerked his head to one side, he felt his neck crack.
“And more is the pity.” She pulled his head down towards her face “Where is she, Fen…” She hissed. Her breath against his ear had the dark stench of offal with a slight vinegary tang. “Tell me where she is, where’s my little lost halla?”
“Let me go Andruil and I might be able to help you.” He made no motion to free himself, it would be pointless in any event.
She got an even firmer grip in his hair and shook him “You reek of cum Fen, did you know that?”
The teeth rattled in his head. “If you had cared to announce your visit I might have had a chance to bathe…”
“Always with the words Fen, so clever, aren’t you?” She sneered, “Would you be so clever with your tongue if you were hurting, I wonder?”
“I doubt it.”
“I, too, doubt it…” But at least she let him go.
He righted himself fussed a little about the sheet, extracted some of the sticky clots she had left in his hair, “You were saying…”
“You heard me the first time, I am looking for Ghilly…”
“Why here?”
“Why not here?”
“It is always a pleasure to see you Andruil but we’re not friends and I find it very strange that you would…”
A calm voice coming from behind interrupted him “Andruil...” She stood like a burnished flame her long white hair falling to just above her slender waist, meek eyes wide, lips and breasts still bruised by his kisses. And naked.
There was a very long silence.
Fen broke it. “Well there you are…”
He smiled turning to Andruil who was standing, still stunned, a petite anaemic princess, a lost toddler who had taken a tumble and got covered in mud. He took a few steps towards her and grasped her hand and as if she were the child he had just envisioned her to be, marched her to where Ghilly stood, “Hand.” Equally mesmerised Ghilly extended her right hand, he joined them, tanned skin to sallow. “So you found her, dah’len. Well done. You two make a perfect couple.”
Took a step back. Exhaled.
Waited for the storm to break.
